Psychological Defense
by MoreisLeslie
Summary: Kolya is dead but has left behind devout followers who intend to torture Sheppard in any way they know how. More information inside. Shep whump! Tentative Sheppard/OC pairing.
1. Chapter 1 Sparring Match

_Author's note: This is not my first fan-fiction but it is the first one published on here. I'm not a best-seller novelist but I do enjoy writing. Critique is definitely welcome. I'm also looking for a beta and am unsure how to go about locating one. If you have any information in that regard, please let me know._

_The pairing is out of character for John, I know and I forgot to mention that but this is purely for my enjoyment but I'll try to keep it minimal and partially believable.  
_

_Also, the OC is based off of a woman I met last week (she is merely an acquaintance) who was a marine on leave. When I discovered her personality, I instantly paired her up with Sheppard and Atlantis. Therefore, this character is based off of her._

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Stargate: Atlantis or any of the characters. I am just having a little fun with them and promise to return them all in one piece...more or less.

* * *

John Sheppard was getting his ass kicked.

But this wasn't just any ordinary ass-kicking. No, he had never once before gotten it kicked by a Marine Lieutenant. To add insult to injury, he was getting beat up by a girl.

"What's wrong, colonel?" she teased. "Not feeling up to your own challenge?"

He groaned from his position – face down on the tiled floor of the southwest pier – remembering that he himself instigating this torture. Of course, he had no idea what he was in for. "You're good. Who was your drill sergeant?" he asked as he forced himself to his feet, moaning as he felt the bruises beginning to take position on various parts of his body.

"Sergeant Williamson," she replied briskly, keeping her block position steady as he rose. He couldn't distract her even if he tried.

"Williamson…" he looked off to his left in thought. "David Williamson?"

Another punch - right to the unguarded abdomen.

"Yes, why?" she smirked as he covered his recently struck area.

"I think…" he paused to catch the air that was knocked out of him, "I grew up with him. I remember the day he left to be a jarhead. We'd graduated together."

She grinned as she backed up to take a look at his face. "Well, then that was quite a while ago wasn't it?"

"Watch yourself, Lieutenant," he warned, putting on his commanding officer tone, "you may be able to kick my ass but I'm still in charge of your duty roster."

She laughed freely, obviously not fazed at all by his warning. Keeping her fists up, she moved around his crouched body in a circling fashion. "So," she sighed, staking position at his ten o'clock, "how does it feel to hit the big four-oh, sir?"

John's head snapped to her face, and she couldn't resist cracking a smile. "Who told you?" he demanded, the blood draining from his face.

Shrugging, the Lieutenant began to bounce playfully on her feet, causing her long brown curls to spring gracefully around her back and shoulders. "It's not that big of a secret, Colonel."

"Rodney," he said almost immediately, rising to his full height in anger. "He just couldn't resist could –

Without warning, the Lieutenant had attacked him, quickly lifting her leg to deliver a perfected kick to the chest area.

It was a miracle that Sheppard had seen it at all. In the nick of time, he grabbed the leg, and used his body weight combined with hers to knock her to the ground, his face inches from hers.

Her heavy breathing from surprise blew onto his face, and he smiled widely. "You got me worked up, but it backfired, didn't it?"

She smiled faintly. "I guess so. Still, I'm surprised someone your age could move so quickly…"

"Oh, enough already with the age," he rolled his eyes and released his grip on her, standing up and scratching the back of his head. "You can't be too much younger anyway…"

"Twenty-nine sir," she replied. He spun around to see she had recovered quickly, and was standing casually with her hands on her hips.

"You're a liar," he accused uncertainly, searching her hazel eyes from some indication of a joke.

She chuckled, and shook her head. "No, sir. But thanks for letting me know that I don't look as young as I am…"

He pursed his lips, and returned his gaze to the only window in the room. "I'm losing my touch," he said sorrowfully.

The Lieutenant began feeling guilty for her merciless jabs and sighed in defeat. "Hardly, sir. You sure thought fast on that last move. I didn't stand a chance."

He shrugged, ignoring her backpedaling and continuing on. "Figures. I guess I'd lost track of the years once I was where I wanted to be."

"Which was where exactly?"

Before he could answer, there was an urgent cry on the PA system. "Colonel Sheppard, please report to the control room immediately."

It was Dr. Weir. This had to be important.

Sheppard nodded to the Lieutenant. "This was fun. We should do it again sometime." The first part was a joke; the second was a half-truth. He was willing to do it again as long as his age wasn't brought up again.

"Anytime you feel up to it, sir." she smiled politely as he nabbed a towel from the nearby rack to wipe the beads of sweat off his face before rushing out of the doors and down the corridor.

X

The colonel was still in his gym outfit when he arrived in the control room and he tossed the damp towel on the ground carelessly. He looked to see Elizabeth standing in front of one of the computers, looking over the shoulder of its hastily tapping technician.

She looked up to see him just in time. "Colonel Sheppard, we've received a rather disturbing transmission from a new planet."

"How would they know where we are if we've never even been to the planet?" he asked, looking over to the screen as well.

Instead of answering, she instructed Chuck, who was hovering over the keyboard to play the transmission. With one tap, the screen filled with a frightening familiar face who held a look of urgency on it. "Colonel Sheppard, if you're out there, I need help. Please. I've run low on rations…and the enzyme…I'm feeling…please, I – "

The message cut off and the dark face was replaced with a static image and nothing but a buzzing noise emanating from audio.

"Ford," John remarked steadily, trying to assess the situation with caution. "What could he possibly want?"

"Help, apparently," Dr. Weir looked towards him in surprise. She had expected Colonel Sheppard to be on board with this as soon as he heard the message, but obviously he wasn't feeling the same way she was. They all missed Ford desperately, though his actions in the past had been less than friendly, but he had made an obvious choice to not return to Atlantis. Still, John had been one of the most adamant in the mission to get him to return and to get off the addictive enzyme that was driving his mind to produce all sorts of idiotic plans that they often got roped into.

Sheppard shook his head. "It's a trick." He said simply, glancing toward her momentarily. "We can't go down there. Besides, my team's not even here. Ronan, Teyla and McKay are on the mainland doing whatever it is McKay wanted to investigate."

"Colonel," Weir shifted her position. "I haven't even said anything."

He placed his hands on his hips defiantly. "Yes, but I know you well enough to know exactly what you were going to."

"He needs our help," she said firmly, skipping ahead to the argument that both he and she knew would ensue.

"You don't know that," the Colonel objected, raising his voice slightly – something he tended to do when getting into a heated argument he was losing, "for all you know, he just wants to drug us again and – "

"I thought you didn't leave men behind," she raised an eyebrow at him, obviously striking a nerve. No matter how much Sheppard was trying to defend his choice to not go, she knew how much Aiden Ford had meant to him. It didn't take a genius to see the strong friendship the two shared or the absolute admiration the he had for the Colonel – whom took the respect with pride and responsibility. It was almost like a father-son relationship and she knew that deep down, John wanted to rescue Ford as much as she did, but he was being cautious – something uncommon in his nature.

He looked away from her. "As I said before, I don't have my team and by the time they get back, it'll be too late for Ford. Besides, he's no longer one of my men."

"Take a marine and Beckett. You'll want to take Ford off the enzyme as soon as possible."

"Take _a _marine?!" he repeated in shocked question. "Elizabeth, we're not going to a party. This man is dangerous! Didn't you hear him say how much he was craving that enzyme?"

"Chances are he's already unconscious and sensors show no other life on the planet. Besides, I'm sure he'd be easy to deal with without his drug." She replied quickly, though her logic wasn't sounding as well as it did in her head. She was acting purely on emotion, something that irritating Kavanagh had accused her of doing periodically, though this was the only time she could and would ever recount on doing so.

She could feel his glare on her as she turned her face towards the stargate rather than at him. "Fine," he said tersely. "But I want a second team of marines standing by the moment there's sign of trouble, got it?"

Elizabeth nodded and smiled at him. He didn't return the smile, but quickly left the room to gather his team. And he knew just who that marine would be.


	2. Chapter 2 Dead Man's Mission

_Author's Note: I received a very helpful critique recently and decided to rearrange a few things so I could more easily clarify certain situations and dilemmas so to not confuse the delicate minds of avid fans. Thank you SO much for all the story alerts, author alerts, and more importantly reviews! You have no idea how much it meant to me to see 5 reviews on my first chapter. I'm not sure if that means a lot on here but to me, it meant that five people liked my story enough to leave a review. And that's astronomical to me._

_Again, I'm still searching for a beta reader and am still uncertain as to how to go about locating one. Please email me or message me if you have information in that regard._

_I also edited the first chapter slightly by editing a couple details. They did not change the basic storyline but cleared up a few things I thought were left a little hazy._

_(I'm taking requests as well for pairings or other fan-fiction ideas if anyone is interested. If you do not have an account, please feel free to email me)._

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Stargate: Atlantis concepts, ideas, characters, settings, alien names and blah blah blah...I'm just borrowing them and will return them in mint condition...I promise.

* * *

"So you're saying that you, me and a doctor are going to approach Lieutenant Ford, a man so far gone that he probably can't even remember his full name?"

The tone and attitude was way out of line, and he could have easily identified it as disrespect and insubordination. But that wasn't his style. Besides, he could easily emphasize with her anger. Only, he had to have a united front with Dr. Weir.

"Hey, have you ever seen Carson in hand to hand combat? He's better than Bruce Lee. I think we're more than well off in this mission," he quipped with a sly grin.

She glared at him, obviously not appreciating his weak attempt at humoring the situation. "Why me?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he replied with a furrowed brow, shifting his weight to his other leg and keeping a casual stance.

Thompson smiled ironically. "You know what I mean. You don't know who I am. This morning's sparring match was our first real conversation."

"So, you've been keeping track?" He grinned widely, but his boisterous attitude was immediately dampened by the unimpressed look that crossed her face. Clearly his throat, he finally relented on the serious talk. "I wanted you because you're the only jar-head I've met on this base who I know wouldn't be completely trigger-happy. You've got common sense and, if you don't mind me saying, that's something you don't often see in marines."

"I'm touched," she replied with a sour look. She was completely out of line but against his better, judgment, he let it go.

Stalking around him, the Lieutenant continued cleaning her quarters. He had walked in at a bad time, and she felt embarrassed having her commanding officer see her residence in such a state.

"Look," he sighed. "I know it seems…somewhat insane and between you and me, I'm not too happy about it either but suck it up and get ready. We have one hour."

Stopping in her tracks she turned to face him. Her eyes were wild with restrained but fiery anger. He was beginning to second guess himself but he knew that's exactly what she wanted.

"Is that an order, Colonel?" she demanded, approaching him with the most intimidating expression she could muster.

"Consider it…a very strong _friendly_ suggestion," he smiled tightly, undaunted.

She mock saluted and turned back around. He almost decided to write her up for clear acts of disrespect towards her superior officer but something made him decide against it. Perhaps it was the fact that he would feel like a blatant hypocrite. He wasn't always the most charming soldier to his superiors but he knew himself that he was a damned good officer. Sheppard settled on allowing her to prove herself before he ended her career as she knew it. However, he would try to make more of a firm stand to show that he wasn't just some blowhard she could kick around.

"One hour, Lieutenant Thompson," he said firmly before stalking out of her quarters. "Bring a P-90 and a smile."

xXx

The Lieutenant smiled to herself as Carson Beckett approached both her and the Colonel with a sour look on his face. Both she and Sheppard were dressed in combat gear, equipped with vests and P-90s. Dr. Beckett also had the mandatory vest but it hung loosely and rebelliously over him. He was also holding tightly to a medical kit rather than a defensive weapon.

It was no secret how the Scot felt about missions such as these – "bloody suicide" was something she often heard him name them – and she could help but sympathize as they expedited their way towards another one, something even less cautious and careful than before, and hardly even planned.

Sheppard nodded to the control room, and the gate began dialing immediately, the sliding sounds scraping against her ear drum as the coordinates from the transmission were slowly locked in.

They stood a good deal back but she still heard the loud clangs quite clearly.

Once nothing remained but the tranquil lake-like appearance in the middle of the gate, John shouted his usual orders – "Alright, let's move out".

Not needing to be told twice, the other two rushed towards the Stargate, eager to get in and get out as fast as possible.

Once they were through, Colonel Sheppard was mumbling small orders about keeping their weapons up and a sharp eye out.

Carson muttered in only hearing distance of the other two, "What's the use? We're all gonna die out here anyway!"

"What makes you say that, Doc?" Lieutenant Thompson jumped in before Beckett received the annoyed response from her superior, who was busy checking out the perimeter.

"What doesn't?" Beckett went on. "It's just a bloody doctor and _two_ armed soldiers. We're dead men."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Carson," Thompson smirked. "Besides, I hear you have amazing combat skills…" she turned to Sheppard when she remembered his crack at humor in her quarters an hour ago. He didn't turn to face her – but she hardly expected him to. He was still busy surveying the area, checking the life signs detector for any hint as to where Lieutenant Ford might be. They were already into the forest, several meters away from the gate but there were no signs of Ford or any other human life, for that matter.

"Oh, aye, if you're talking about a virus," The doctor droned on, seemingly oblivious to the joke or the focus the other two officers were putting into the mission, "but put me in crossfire and I'm just as useful as Rodney."

Lieutenant Thompson chortled but maintained her position steadily. She wasn't too fond of Dr. McKay either, and a little harmless poking fun helped lighten the situation.

Suddenly, a loud noise rang out and a bright blue beam zipped above their heads, almost touching Colonel Sheppard's already on-edge hair.

"Wraith stunners!" John shouted. "Get down!"

Before he even finished the word "Wraith" both she and Carson were down on the ground. "Head back to the gate," she told the Beckett, positioning her gun on the ground to aim in the direction the weapons fire was coming from. "Tell Atlantis." They weren't due for another six hours – which could possibly be too late for them.

Beckett was gone immediately. She could only hope that the gate wasn't already guarded by whoever was firing on them.

Crawling up to be even with the Colonel, she began firing in the area he was, both shielded by a slight uphill.

The mild battle went on for about two minutes. Just as John was figuring it was going to be a tedious stalemate, he felt the chilling sensation of hard metal against the back of his head. He turned slightly to the right to see that Lieutenant Thompson was mirroring the surprised look that was most likely on his face as well.

"Drop your weapons," a low voice commanded, the metal pressing harder against the base of his skull. He did as he was told and lifted his hands up slowly, away from his body. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw that Thompson had done the same.

"Now stand up."

Creaking slowly to their full height, the two also turned around to see the faces of their opponents.

They did not look familiar in saying that they did not wear any uniforms and had no distinctive cultural markers. They simply looked like humans - dirty, tough humans who held stolen Wraith stunners in their hands.

"Who are you?" Sheppard finally asked after what seemed like hours with guns in their faces and their hearts pounding. "Where's Ford?"

"I am Jagrin," said the man whose weapon was pointed towards him, "of the Genii. And you're friend whom you are referring to is dead. We found his unsent transmission a while ago and decided it would be of use to us."

"The Genii?" Thompson repeated. "Ladon's –

A hard blow was delivered swiftly to the side of the Lieutenant's head, knocking her to the ground. The operative who had hit her, the other Genii, spat on her face. "Never speak of that traitor's name!"

"Hey," Sheppard stepped in front of her, still keeping his hands up, and trying to keep his voice calm, "there's no need for violence, I promise you. Maybe we can work this out."

Lieutenant Thompson merely brought her hand to a bleeding cut on the side of her face, and glared up at the man.

Jagrin chuckled. "Colonel Sheppard. Kolya always told me you would attempt diplomacy, but I never imagined it would be quite so pathetic."

John's glance shifted to the Jagrin, whose blonde hair covered his beady green eyes, making it hard to detect any hints of falsehood. "Kolya?" he repeated in question, and an involuntary shiver ran down his spine as the name left his lips. "Kolya is dead." The last statement was merely for confirmation. The old Genii commander had an irritating knack for rising from the grave on multiple occasions. The last he'd seen of him however, he was almost certain he was dead.

Jagrin nodded, grinning cruelly, as he still held the gun steadily towards Sheppard. "That may be, but his mission still lives on in me and my men."

For some reason, the verification of Kolya's death didn't bring him the relief it should have. "And what was his mission exactly?" Something told the Colonel he didn't want to know, but he knew that this rogue Genii would tell him sooner or later, and he'd rather know his plans now as to be able to formulate an escape plan more quickly.

There was a silent exchange between Jagrin and the other guard. The other shot Lieutenant Thompson, stunning her.

Knowing that it was only a stun, John was infuriated only slightly as he looked to Jagrin for an explanation.

"His mission was to make you suffer and then kill you." The blonde explained simply, his face an unmerciful expression of brutality and evil.

The last image he saw before the blackness was the Genii rogue raising the stunner, and pointing it at him.


	3. Chapter 3 Level One

_AN: I'm going to just admit it now. This chapter was done very lazily. I worked all day on it but nothing would make it piece together right. It's too choppy for my likings and I wish I could just eject the entire chapter. I'm going to blame it on the stupid 24 hour fasting I did today. My head is very foggy and I've been tired all day. Still, I'm going to say that I did try my best and I hope __some__ of you will appreciate it. But don't say I didn't warn you.  
_

_Again, I'm still searching for a beta reader and am still uncertain as to how to go about locating one. Please email me or message me if you have information in that regard._

_

* * *

_"_Wake up, John," Kolya's voice ripped through the darkness of his unconscious. "It's time…"_

John Sheppard's eyes fluttered open and it took him a moment before fully assessing his whereabouts. The memories of what previously happened only slowly came back to him as he looked to see Lieutenant Thompson's limp figure lying about three feet away from him. Her hair was undone from the tight bun she stuffed under her hat. It was flowing freely about her shoulders and the damp, stone cold floor they were both laying on.

Still feeling a bit numb in his extremities, John slowly lifted his arms to push himself up from the floor. His muscles protested in pain but he ignored the cries of his body as he pulled himself across to check on the Lieutenant.

Once he reached her form, he stretched across her back and placed two fingers on her neck, checking for a pulse. To his relief, he felt a heavy pounding beneath it. She was still alive…and still pumped with adrenaline, however suppressed by those damn stunners.

He left her and pulled his weight towards the closest wall to lean up against. Once he was sitting up, he looked around their prison. There were three stone walls that matched the floors and one open area that had sturdy black bars with the slight outline of a locked door to the far right. A torch was lit on the other side of the prison, providing what little light they had. He buried his face in his hands as he realized he was, once again, on the receiving end of the Genii's marvelous hospitality.

"How was your rest, Colonel?"

The deep voice was easily recognized, and Sheppard's head snapped in the direction he had heard it from.

Jagrin was grinning broadly, and pacing slowly in front of the metal bars – the only thing keeping John from ripping the arrogant man's face off.

"I've had better," the Colonel replied, playing along with the man's scornful friendly conversation. "But I'd like to thank you for the accommodations. The Genii have never been less than generous."

"Commander Kolya also informed me of your insatiable ability to use sarcasm to cover up pain," Jagrin sighed, cocking his head to the side in mock pity."It's a shame that it won't work with me."

Biting back the agony, John stood up to his full height. "All right, enough with the pleasantries then, what do you want from us?"

The Genii man smiled in that cruel fashion once again, "I already told you what I – we - wanted, Colonel. Would you like me to tell you again?"

"I'm not buying it," the Colonel growled, quickly growing tired of Jagrin's mind games. "What is it you really want? A Jumper? Weapons? News flash for you, you aren't getting any."

Jagrin chuckled. "What makes you think I would want any of those things? We're a small community – fifty Genii at the most. Any technology you might have would only draw attention to the Wraith."

Sheppard bit his lip. "Fine, I'll spell it out for you. What can I do to ensure the safety of my officer?"

The blonde man leaned slightly, peering around John to get a look at whom he was referring to. "You care about her?" he asked slyly.

"Of course I do, I'm her commanding officer, I'm responsible for what happens to her," the fury was building up in the Colonel, and he wanted nothing more than to crush the man's esophagus. He was more arrogant than Kolya but he wasn't more frightening to John than the older commander ever was. Right now, he was simply an overzealous young disciple to the devil.

"I'll keep that in mind then," Jagrin replied in such a tone that John wished he had never even mentioned his charge over Thompson. "For now, however, we'll get started on level one of your ongoing suffering."

Level one? What kind of sick game were these men playing?

Sheppard remained silent as he stepped back from the bars. Two other Genii men now appeared from around the corner, one of them hit a button on a console near the side wall that the Colonel hadn't seen before. Suddenly, a blue light appeared and rapidly disintegrated in front of him, revealing that there had been more than just metal bars between him and the taste of freedom.

They lifted a lock on the back of the door and pushed it open, stepping inside to each grab a hold of John's arms. With a tight grip on both of his biceps, they began dragging him out.

The noise of the struggle had woken Thompson. She slowly pushed herself up with a wild look of fear in her eyes. "Colonel!" she shouted helplessly, forcing herself to her feet as she realized the situation was growing more dire when they took her commanding officer out of the cell and into the corridor.

"Don't feel left out," Jagrin told her softly with a cruel grin on his face, "your turn will come."

Her pulse quickened and her mouth went dry at his words. She watched in horror as Colonel Sheppard disappeared from her sight to God knew where.

xXx

The last thing John had seen was the stone walls the Genii soldiers had pushed him past. Then, he was blindfolded and pushed roughly into a seat with his hands tied behind it with a strong rope that cut through his skin when he tried to struggle. All was quiet and the only sounds he could hear were the soft pants of the soldiers who had a workout trying to get him from point A to point B, and the creaking of the seemingly old chair he was currently sitting on.

"How high is your threshold for pain, Colonel?" Jagrin's voice pierced through the deafening silence like a knife. John heard snapping, akin to leather gloves being slipped on and then tightened. He swallowed quietly, and prepared the mental blockers he had been trained to use for years in situations of intense agony.

He decided against answering the man, he knew it was rhetorical anyway. As long as he could, Sheppard would not play a part in this twisted game left behind by Kolya to ensure his suffering.

"I asked you a question," Jagrin spoke again in such a tone it made the Colonel visibly flinch. "I didn't gag you, you can speak."

John still didn't say a word. Whatever the Genii wanted him to say, it obviously would be of some enjoyment to him. And Sheppard wasn't going to give him that.

He heard a low rumble and realized that Jagrin was chuckling. "You're a stubborn man, John Sheppard. But refusing to speak will not save you or your precious officer. I would think if anything, you would want to prolong your lives…especially hers."

Fearing the worst, the Colonel finally relented. "You're sick."

Pain suddenly enveloped him and he felt like he had just been hit head-on by a train. It took him a moment to realize he'd been struck in the face – more specifically, the one blindfolded eye. He could already feel it throbbing and starting to bruise. "Great," he muttered to himself and leaned his head back to try and block out the pain.

"That's not even a fraction of what you'll experience before you die, Sheppard," the Genii man sighed in what sounded like boredom. He heard more snapping and finally resolved that Jagrin _did_ have gloves on so he wouldn't hurt himself in the process of beating John to a pulp. What a pussy.

Another blow was delivered to his abdomen and a more poignant agony spread throughout his body. "Gah!" he shouted out in pain and ground his teeth together, his mental barriers breaking down. After the pain slightly subsided, he breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself and push past the anguish.

"How much can you withstand before you blackout from the pain?"

If he had wanted an answer, Jagrin didn't give him time to provide him one because a millisecond later, he was hit square in his mouth, knocking his face to the left. Sheppard held it there while the blood in his mouth began dripping down and his lip began to swell. Flicking his tongue out, he tasted blood, and tried to assess how much damage was done by feeling around the sensitive areas.

Suddenly, the blindfold was lifted from his face, and his was greeted by his torturer's sarcastically pleasant face. The Colonel glared at him from his position, swearing to himself that he wouldn't give this man any sort of satisfaction, which meant absolutely no pleading for mercy.

He moved his head slightly, trying to straighten up but the lightheadedness caused by the smacking around made it hard for him to hold his head up. The blood continued to drip from his mouth onto his shirt and it wouldn't stop.

"Are you done being too prideful to beg for me to stop?" Jagrin asked haughtily, stooping to John's level and staring at him straight in the eyes.

Sheppard's focus was getting hazy and he was beginning to see double. His mind was also becoming fuzzy and wouldn't have been able to do a simple math problem if he wanted to. However, he was lucid enough to spit out the one word he needed - "never."

The Genii man seemed pleased with this response as he backed away. For one brief moment, the Colonel was beginning to think that the torture was over. But then, a knife was pulled out from Jagrin's belt and he twirled it around in his fingers. The dagger itself was menacing. It was a curved blade and had two notches in the top – which would make whatever it would stab into experience double the agony.

The Colonel must have shown a brief flash of fear in his eyes for his torturer laughed delightfully. "No doubt you wish for clemency now, Colonel."

John didn't say a word but kept his eye on the weapon that was quickly approaching. His mind was threatening to collapse but he knew that that was what Jagrin wanted and willed himself to stay conscious.

Jagrin tossed the knife up in the air and caught it by its handle. "Don't look so afraid, John," he assured, gripping Sheppard by the neck and twisting it up. "I won't kill you….yet."

The Colonel could no longer restrain his cries of pain and he screamed in anguish as the dagger penetrated his left shoulder. But the entry was not as excruciating as when Jagrin unmercifully twisted it, and ripped it out. He screamed again, the pain too unbearable to be stubborn any longer. John closed his eyes tightly and passed out.


	4. Chapter 4 Cell Mates

_AN: I'd like to thank my ever gracious and kind 'unofficial' beta for helping me extensively with this chapter. Not a lot of whump but more of a "bridge" for the next chapter. This one more focuses on Sheppard's relationship with Thompson (and don't worry, it won't go as far as against regulation, for those who have been asking about that...I think). But anyways, I hope you enjoy it and review! I love reviews :)_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate: Atlantis or any of the characters. It'd be fantastic if I did, but I don't.**

**

* * *

**"_Colonel, colonel," Kolya chuckled darkly, "you like to pretend you're tough but we both know you're not. You're weak. You'll never get out of this alive. Colonel, colonel, colonel…"_

"Colonel!"

John's eyelids shot open, and he grabbed the wrist of the arm he felt on his shoulder. "Kolya?" he gasped.

"No, Colonel, it's me."

He looked to the sound of the voice and saw Thompson's worried expression as she hovered over his body, and he released her wrist slowly. "What happened?" He panted, and closed his eyes tightly as a sudden wave of pain engulfed him.

"You don't remember?" she asked in surprise, her brows furrowing as she studied him closer.

He shook his head as slowly as he could. "No. I remember. How long was I out?"

"Not long," she sighed, glancing towards the prison door where one Genii stood guard. "They just _dumped_ you in here a couple minutes ago."

"We need to – ow!"

The sharp, searing pain that ripped through his shoulder as he tried to sit up brought back vivid memories of his recent torture.

"What is it?" Thompson asked, concern clouding her face as she watched him grimace in agony.

"It's nothing," he held out a hand towards her. She grabbed it, and slowly helped him lean up against the wall, "I ran into Jagrin's dagger."

She peered at his shoulder, and he immediately looked down to where she was peering. To his surprise, there was a dark red mass pooling at the point his shoulder and chest met. Tentatively, he reached out to touch it. As soon as he felt the warm liquid against his fingers, he felt a sharp throbbing in the area as well. "Ow," he muttered. Just as he was turning around reassure her that it was nothing, he saw her crawl away, grab something, and return.

"That looks pretty bad," she remarked as she studied it, trying to see in the poorly illuminated room. She looked up at him and smiled faintly. "But I'm no doctor. You'd have to take Beckett's word for it."

"Speaking of which," he started as he allowed her to feel around the area of the wound, "where is he?"

"Shh," she warned, not looking up, "I think that's what they're wondering too. They might ask us. I sent him back to the gate. I'm hoping he got through."

He nodded silently.

After a couple more seconds of soft touching, she raised the hand that held the item she had crawled over with. As he got a closer look at it, he saw that it was her hat, balled up into a mass of material that she was now pressing against the wound, causing the pain to augment dramatically.

"Ah…" he hissed quietly, trying to block out the pain.

"Sorry," she said with an emphatic wince, "but we've got to stop this bleeding."

"It hurts," he informed her, watching her expression as she concentrated on his injury.

She nodded. "I know, I know. Just try and distract yourself for a couple more minutes."

Taking her advice, the Colonel looked around the room. There was nothing of interest or worth any distraction in his sights. Everything was too darkly lit and ominous.

"Right, I'll just stare at that lovely guard over there," he turned his head slightly to the blank-faced soldier who stared straight ahead down the corridor.

She smiled and nodded at his joke, pulling back and placing his hand over the hat, forcing him to press it against the lesion himself

"You know," he adjusted himself so that he could see her face more easily, "I don't even know your first name."

Even in the darkness, Colonel Sheppard could see her raise a skeptical eyebrow at him. "I would think you would, since you approved my application for joining Atlantis two years ago."

He cringed. "To tell you the truth, it's more of an eeny-meeny-miney-mo decision for new recruits."

Thompson chuckled again and rested back on her haunches. "Well, good to know that I'm not really the best of the best."

He smiled at her in apology but she shrugged it off. "My name's Victoria," she replied in a steady voice, "Victoria Kathryn Thompson."

Sheppard nodded. "I'd shake your hand and say 'nice to meet you' but…"

"It's all right," she interjected, patting him on the shoulder. "Nice to meet you too, Colonel."

She moved over to lean against the wall next to him, wrapping her arms around her legs. "Man, I did not think this would be happening today."

John grimaced. "To be honest, no one ever really does."

"Well," she rolled her head towards him gave a wan smile, "you face this kind of thing almost every day. I'd think you'd be used to it by now."

He shrugged. "I guess so but you know, it's not every day I meet a cult of bad guys who follow orders from a dead guy."

She chuckled softly. "Touché."

The colonel groaned against the pain in his shoulder as it began throbbing even more steadily now. The lieutenant snapped to his side and lifted his hand over the cap he was pressing against his wound. It had soaked through and was of no use now. Biting her lip, she informed him, "it's infected."

John looked down to see that the wound was red and inflamed - sure signs of infection

She growled angrily and stood up. "It's only going to get worse. We need to get you to a doctor."

"Lieutenant," he started firmly, "save your energy. You're going to need it when we break out of here. For now, get some sleep."

"Shouldn't Atlantis know we're missing?" she asked, ignoring his order to get some sleep.

"I'm sure they do," he replied trying to sound positive. "Carson probably got through and they're working on a mission right now. If not, we'd only have to wait four or more hours."

Victoria nodded slowly but he could tell she wasn't convinced. She moved over to the other side of the cell, and disappeared into the shadows. He heard her move around a little bit to get more comfortable and he did the same.

It was hard to try and fall asleep with the stab wound in his shoulder so he stayed awake, staring at the ceiling of their prison instead.

Hours later, the cell started to get colder and it wasn't long before he could hear Thompson shivering in the shadows. John on the other hand, felt warm. His jacket provided some heat but it was mostly his rising temperature that kept his body temperate –as uncomfortable as it was.

Sheppard finally made up his mind. Using his good arm to guide him, he pulled himself across the floorcomma and felt around until he finally touched a body with the tip of his fingers. He realized she was sitting up, leaning against the wall as he had. She flinched, surprised by the touch but he patted her gently. "Just me," he said in a reassuring tone, "thought you could use some warmth."

He sat down next to her and attempted to put an arm around her but she drew away quickly.

"No, thank you sir, but I'm fine." Her voice seemed restrained as if she felt more than she was saying but keeping it reined in.

As she was pulling away, he caught her by the wrist firmly. Even in the dark, he could see her stare at him in perplexity.

"Lieutenant," he began slowly, "we need to stay alive as long as possible in order to find a way out of here. In order to do that, we'll need each other and right now, both you and I need warmth. Now is not the time to be shy or…stubborn. I don't want to make this a direct order. Understood?"

There was a moment's pause – Thompson's small way of rebelling – before she settled back into position next to the Colonel.

He wrapped a tentative arm around her, and she leaned in responsively, her teeth's chattering slowly stopped as her body grew acclimatized to his warmth.

A few awkward minutes ticked by before John cleared his throat, and began his attempt at small talk. "So, is your family in the military?"

"Both my parents were killed in an Air Force mission when I was ten," she replied flatly, "it's one of the main reasons I joined the Marine Corps."

Sheppard wasn't quite sure what to say. Losing a family member would be hard in any circumstance, including his own father whom he didn't even get along very well with. "I'm sorry about that," he said, feeling uncomfortable.

She shrugged under his arm. "It was almost twenty years ago - it's nothing new to me. My aunt raised me. She's more of parent to me than either of them were and not because of the amount of years I've spent with either. My parents were often away on missions, mostly together and she would watch over me. To me it was like losing a cousin or a distant relative. I didn't know them well enough to be depressed over it."

Colonel Sheppard was fell quiet. He had never heard of a relationship between parent and child to be quite so bizarre. But he nodded in acceptance. "That must have made it easier for you."

She nodded as well and looked up at him in the dark as she smiled slightly. "It did." After a couple more seconds of silence, Victoria directed her gaze toward his wound. "How is it?"

He looked down to the area as well and touched it lightly with two of his left fingers. "The bleeding's stopped. For now."

"Let me check just to make sure." She rolled over on her side and reached her hand over for the injury.

He allowed her access to the wound and once she was done she withdrew the bloodied cap and threw it across the room. Then she reached over to her pant leg and fingered the stitching of one of the pockets. She tore the material off and placed it over the colonel's wound. Once again, she picked up his hand. and pressed it against the fabric so he could hold it himself.

"Thank you," he said to her in a genuinely grateful tone. When she looked up, she realized that he was looking straight at her. She looked away nervously and returned to her position next to him.

"You're welcome," she sighed.

xXx

There was suddenly a loud clanging at their prison door and Thompson jolted awake. She turned to see John had as well. She didn't even realize they had fallen asleep.

Jagrin stepped through the door, followed by two Genii guards.

Sheppard glanced at the Lieutenant momentarily before standing to his feet, flinching against the pain in his shoulder. Victoria followed suit.

"What do you want?" the colonel demanded.

"How's your shoulder?" the Genii man cocked his head and smiled cruelly at Sheppard.

"I've had worse," John replied flatly. "Now answer the question."

"We thought you might like some medical treatment for the wounds you've recently sustained," the blonde man offered, rocking back on his heels and folding his hands in front of him as he waited for his answer.

It took Sheppard a few moments but he finally responded with an adamant "No".

"Sir," Thompson jumped in, grabbing a hold of his arm, "with all due respect, I think you should take it. That wound is infected and it's going to get worse in time if you don't get treatment."

"Listen to the woman, Sheppard," Jagrin sneered, glancing between the two.

The lieutenant ground her teeth at the designation but kept her temper in check. The last thing her CO needed was another brawl.

"Fine," the colonel relented. Victoria could tell he was thinking that he would regret his decision, and she hoped to death that medical attention really did mean help for him.

The two guards held him by his upper arms, and escorted him out of the prison. Once again, he disappeared from her sight.


	5. Chapter 5 No Hope

_AN: Sorry about the day-long delay. This last chapter was a little trickier. Also, I just wanted to let you guys know I'll be gone from Thursday to Sunday (me and my soon-to-be hubby are taken a little vacation! :) but I'll try to update the moment I am back! _

_Credit: My WONDERFUL beta (I don't know if she wants her name revealed yet or not, we'll soon see) deserves full credit for that last paragraph. I ended the story too abruptly and she kindly lent a terrific suggestion._

**Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate: Atlantis or the characters. I'm just playing with them for my own personal enjoyment. :)**

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John Sheppard had a tough time keeping his footing as the soldiers shoved him down the corridors towards their destination. The several times he stumbled, he was met with a hard kick to the ribs, and yanked back up again.

It seemed to be hours before they finally stopped in front of two large double doors. Once they opened, he was pushed in and they closed behind him.

Cautiously, he looked around the large room, waiting for some sort of ambush or another type of torture that was most likely planned for him.

"Jagrin?" he called out, his head turning to each direction, searching for what he knew was coming.

"Hardly, colonel," a familiar voice spoke from behind him.

Sheppard quickly twisted around to see where the source of the voice came from. When he saw who was addressing him, the colonel's eyebrows furrowed together. "What happened?"

Carson Beckett shrugged. "Lieutenant Thompson sent me to go back to the gate to get help from Atlantis, but they had the gate guarded. Before I had time to hide in the woods, I was dragged back to this bloody hell hole. Apparently, I'm their acting medic until I'm no longer needed."

"We were kind of hoping you'd made it back." Sheppard's spirits drooped in an instant, as did his shoulders.

Dr. Beckett frowned. "I'm so sorry, lad. I honestly didn't know you were alive until a few minutes ago when that bloody fair-haired menace - what's his name?"

"Jagrin," John spat the name out.

"Aye, Jagrin," Carson went on, "anyway, he told me that it'd be my ongoing job to patch you back up from 'incidents', as he referred to them, and return you back to them."

"You refused, right?" Sheppard demanded, stepping closer to the clearly upset doctor, who wrinkled his brow in confusion.

"Of course not, colonel," he replied, appalled, "why would I do such a thing? I want to help you and I'd rather not have some bloody Genii doctor operating on you."

Before the colonel could rip the doctor a new one for cooperating with the enemy, Beckett rushed towards his face and tilted it to the side. "Did he do this to you?" he asked, touching John's bruised eye gently.

"Ouch," he hissed in pain, "yeah, he did. But that's not the worst part."

Dr. Beckett released him, and Sheppard turned his stabbed shoulder towards him, revealing the deep wound.

"Oh, bloody hell." Carson muttered and grabbed a hold of the colonel's shoulder gently. "This looks like a stab wound. He stabbed you?"

"Seems so," John replied and then asked in a more serious tone, "What can you do about it?" '

"They've allowed me to keep my medical kit," the doctor informed him, looking over his shoulder and then back to him, "along with their own set of medicines. But I'm better off with only my kit than adding their rubbish to the mix. But to take care of this, I'll need a lot more than just bandages and Tylenol."

"Well, it will have to do, doc," Sheppard grunted. "Besides, we'll be out of this mess soon enough, and you can patch it up back at the infirmary."

Beckett led him across the room to a solitary bed that he hadn't spotted when he stepped in. Once he sat down, John asked, "You tried to escape yet?"

Carson hesitated to answer, reached under the bed, and pulled out the medical kit. After he had opened it and grabbed the materials he needed, he responded to the question in a low voice. "There are two doors on either side. Both have a couple guards on each. So, no, I didn't try."

Wincing as Dr. Beckett cleaned the wound, Sheppard tried to distract himself with more conversation. "How…" he grunted, "well do you know the layout of the place?"

The doctor shook his head. "Not that well. I'm afraid. I was blindfolded. This was the only room I got to see."

Sheppard sighed. "They – he – wants to make extra sure that we don't get out, doesn't he?"

Beckett didn't reply. He finished bandaging the injury. "There," he said with a sigh. "That should do until we get back to Atlantis. Till then, try not to put too much strain on it."

The colonel gave the Carson a look. "I may not have much choice but thanks for the tip, doc."

"I have Tylenol," Carson replied, "but no water to swallow it with."

Sheppard grabbed the pills that Carson had pulled out, and pushed them into his mouth and swallowed them quickly. The mention of water made his throat burn. Their canisters had been taken from them and it had been awhile since his last drink. "It's fine,Carson. Thanks again."

Dr. Beckett nodded. "Besides the black eye, are there any other injuries I should know about?"

John moved his jaw, checking to see if it had been dislocated in that blow. He was satisfied to find that Jagrin had merely split his lip and the jaw was perfectly fine. "No. For now, anyway." Sheppard hesitated, then whispered. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon."

The look on the doctor's face gave away his disgust at Sheppard's treatment, but he said nothing.

As soon as the colonel had eased off the bed, the doors to the outside of the room slid open, and Jagrin's irritatingly confident form strode in. "Feeling better, colonel?" the Genii asked slyly with a twitch of his mouth.

"Yeah, I'm doing great," John nodded and narrowed his eyes. The sarcasm being tossed back and forth was getting a little old but it seemed to be the only language Jagrin spoke. "

Jagrin chuckled. "Glad to hear it. Shall we go back to your cell now? I have a surprise waiting for you."

xXx

"No hope, no hope, no hope…"

Thompson's cries could be heard throughout the night in their small little cell. Sheppard would have become overly agitated and ordered her to stop, but she wasn't doing it willingly.

Jagrin's "surprise" for the colonel had been to arrive back at their cell to find the lieutenant had been injected with some sort of drug that seemed to slip her back to a child-like state. When he had been shoved back inside, she was leaning up against the wall, her arms wrapped around her legs tightly and shivering in fear. She wouldn't speak for the first couple minutes or so. But soon after, she began muttering incoherently and then crying.

It hurt him to see her like this. And Jagrin knew it. This pain he felt was the only reason that she was still alive. They used his charge over her as an advantage to make him suffer.

Sheppard cursed as he sat up, giving up on sleep. He should have known a little thing like death would never stop Kolya. No matter what he did, that tenacious bastard would show up wherever he was to torture him, and remind him of the nightmares the Genii commander had created in John's normally shielded and aloof mind.

Kolya was like no other. Wraith didn't scare John, surprisingly, but for some reason, a man twenty years his senior scared the living shit out of him, and he couldn't figure out why. Perhaps it was his ability to rise up from any given circumstance to torture him. In any circumstance he didn't enjoy Kolya, and he wasn't any more pleasant after death.

"No hope, no hope, no hope…"

The Colonel tightened his fists in order to control his temper before crawling back over to the slumped figure.

She was curled into a tight fetal position with her back against the wall. As he got closer, he could see that she was sweating so profusely, that her hair was plastered to her face. She wasn't just insane, she was frightened.

He rested a comforting hand on her back and rubbed it softly. He whispered soothing words but nothing seemed to deter her desire to utter those same words over and over again.

"No hope, no hope, no hope…"

To be honest, they were starting to get to him. He had always made it a point to not believe in no-win scenarios. There was always a way for escape. He and his team had faced the direst of situations and had always found a way out in one piece…more or less. And he didn't suspect that this one should be any different.

However, it was hard to keep a positive attitude when the incessant moaning next to him constantly reminded him of no hope. Not to mention the fact that they were soon to reach five hours without any sign of Atlantis.

"John."

Colonel Sheppard looked down to see that Thompson was staring at him, glazy-eyed and frightened. The whisper had come from her. He was surprised that she had called him by his first name, even in her condition. She had always called him by his rank and never any different. Something was definitely wrong.

"I'm here," he replied quickly, firming his grip on her shoulder to reassure her she was not alone.

"I can't…" she started, her head rolling back. "They're…they're going to kill me. I can see it…the…bodies…Wraith ships."

"Shh," he patted her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. Her sentences still weren't making any sense.

Her eyes began to roll back in her head, and John felt a sense of panic. He pulled her upright, leaning her against the wall beside him. "Thompson," he spoke loudly, looking into her drowsy eyes, "Victoria stay with me."

She looked to him glassy-eyed. "I'm here," she whispered, almost sounding coherent, "but I'm so…so weak. John, I'm cold."

He sighed in frustration. She needed to have her head clear if there was any chance for escape. But her condition just seemed to be deteriorating.

Still, he wrapped his arms around her, and buried his face to her neck, breathing his hot breath on her cold skin in an attempt to keep that pulse going. He had a feeling she was going to slip away if they didn't get help soon.

"No hope…" she whispered faintly, and he pulled back to see that her eyes had closed completely.

Panic swept through him, and he pulled his fingers up to her neck to check for a pulse. It was still there, thumping slowly but too slowly for his liking. What worried him more, however, was the fact that he couldn't hear a single breath emerge from her mouth or her nose. Placing his hand over her chest, he was relieved to feel the rise and fall of her chest. Letting out a huge sigh, he laid her back down and began pacing furiously. She was still with him, but the frustration was building up inside him. He clenched his fists into tight balls as he tried to control his anger. Soon, however, he realized that such a thing wouldn't be possible and he needed to release his anger on something. Without thinking, he turned and slammed his fist into the cold stone wall behind him.

"Dammit!" he cried as he examined his bleeding knuckles. He chuckled darkly as he realized that Kolya was, as usual, even able to make him torture himself. "Damn you Kolya!" he shouted through the cold air. "You just couldn't leave me the hell alone, could you?!"

Exhausted, he collapsed on his knees and held his head in his hands. He pulled at his hair as he realized that the chances of saving both their lives were drastically decreasing by the second.


	6. Chapter 6 The Next Level

_AN: Alright, my last post before my vacation! See you all Monday!_

_Thanks: I'd like to thank my beta, Sterenyk Strey, once again for being so amazing._

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate: Atlantis or its characters. You know this.**

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"_She's going to die, John," Kolya snickered. "And it's your own fault. You can't save her."_

Sheppard groaned and rubbed his eyes, waking himself up from another one of his ongoing nightmares. It was impossible to get more than twenty minute's sleep in this place. He hadn't meant to drift off. He turned his head to look at Thompson, still lying beside him in the same position he had left her.

The night before, he hadn't been able to bring himself to leave her unattended, so he had settled down to sleep a couple feet away where he could keep an eye on her.

John closed the space between them quickly to check her breathing again. He sighed in relief when he felt the slight blow against his ear that he had bent towards her mouth and nose. She was alive, but barely.

Beckett would know what to do.

Standing up to pace, the colonel began to wonder what would have happened if he had insisted that she had come with when he was escorted out for medical attention. She might not have been drugged if he had done so. But then again, hindsight was always twenty-twenty.

Reaching with his good arm, Sheppard scratched the back of his head, and dug his nails into his skull as he attempted to concoct an escape plan. But nothing came to him. There were too many disadvantages and not enough advantages. Firstly, he was still injured, and would be more vulnerable than he would like to be. Secondly, he had no one else to collaborate with. Thompson was out of the question, and he would only be able to get to Dr. Beckett by maneuvering through several hallways and trying every single door for God knew how long. It would take too much time and he would probably be discovered almost immediately.

The helplessness was almost too much to bear and he very nearly punched the wall again if it weren't for the stinging sensation he felt when he tightened his fist – a reminder of his last anger release.

John's unhappy musings were interrupted by a quiet moan that he wouldn't have been able to detect if he were not listening for it.

Moving swiftly from the other side of the cell, he knelt by the lieutenant's limp form. Her eyelids opened slightly but just enough for him to see the whites of her eyes. He mouthed a silent prayer of relief and tried to smile encouragingly, though he knew she probably wouldn't be able to see him. "Thompson?"

"I'm here."

Even though her voice was quiet and pain-filled, she sounded lucid, which surprised him. But he was still unsure as to if she were truly clear-headed.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked, hoping she would reply with a concrete answer.

"I'm fine," she reported. He knew she was lying but he didn't dare interrupt as she gasped for another breath of air, "I don't remember what happened."

"That's okay," he assured, patting her shoulder, "you didn't miss much."

"Where…" she coughed, "did they take you?"

Sheppard looked away, and considered whether or not he should tell her. He decided to be honest, despite her deteriorating condition. "They took me to see Carson."

There was a dreadful silence as she stared up at him, her facial expression blank and unreadable.

"You mean he's…?"

"Yeah, he's here," John sighed, squeezing her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Turning her face towards the ceiling, Thompson bit her lip. "Damn."

"Feel like sitting up?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from such a depressing subject.

She nodded wordlessly, and began attempting to push herself up. He helped her sit up against the wall. Once upright, she asked, "Even if Beckett didn't get to warn Atlantis, shouldn't they have mounted a rescue team by now?"

The colonel shrugged and stood up. "They should have. I don't know what's keeping them, but I'm hoping that they'll find us soon."

The door rattled and Sheppard's head snapped in the direction, expecting to see Jagrin opening the door to escort him to the next level of torture. But it was only a guard who opened the door for a fraction of a second and tossed in their water canisters and a solitary MRE from their stash of confiscated items.

John barreled towards the objects, his dry throat making it more known at the sight of water. Before he took a much desired swig however, he tossed the other container to Victoria, who, with surprising accuracy, caught it and ripped off the top.

The colonel did the same and tilted the bottle to his lips. The water was warm, but it still felt good on his parched throat. He took only a couple sips, wanting to stretch out the amount they had. For all he knew, this was the only water they would receive their whole stay.

Setting his canister next to the wall, he then reached for the MRE that was lying on the ground. He tore open the bag and spilled the contents on the floor. Sheppard did the math and calculated that, even if extended, the MRE would only feed them for a maximum of three days. Hopefully, they would be rescued before then.

He picked up the Fritos bag and slid it across the floor to the lieutenant. For himself, he took the crackers.

"Good old MREs," Thompson chuckled. "I'd never thought I'd be so happy to see one."

John offered a half-hearted grin as he chucked down a handful of crackers and placed the rest back in the bag for later.

There was another clang at their door and the colonel snapped to his full height and stood to face the door. He almost groaned aloud as he saw Jagrin step through but instead, he stood in silence.

"Is it time for another dosage?" the Genii asked rhetorically as he looked over to Victoria, who was attempting to sit up straighter as she glared at him.

"You're _not_ going to be drugging anyone anymore," the colonel growled. "You almost killed her."

Jagrin smiled. "I see you're feeling better. I guess it's time for the next level."

"Stop calling it that," Sheppard grimaced. It irritated him how much Jagrin was treating this like a game when both his and Thompson's lives were hanging in the balance.

Ignoring John's demand, nodded to the two guards who stalked inside as well. Before they could grab his shoulders again, the colonel held up his hands, "I think I know how this works now. I can walk on my own."

The soldiers looked to Jagrin for his approval. Once he nodded, they stood down and John walked past them and out into the corridor with them close on his heels. He was relieved not having their strong arms grip his wounded shoulder but that didn't ease the nausea that was rushing over him as he thought about what the "next level" would have in store for him.

xXx

Sheppard his new torture chamber room with a quick sweep of his tired eyes. There wasn't much in there to look at. The only things that mattered were the crude surgical table that stood in the middle and the tray that was placed next to it with the even cruder instruments piled on top.

John was immediately reminded of a 1950s classic movie he had watched once where a mad scientist operated on human victims to test his experiments. He tightened his jaw and hoped that this wasn't one of those situations.

Without warning, he was suddenly yanked forward, his eyes wide as he realized he was being pulled towards the surgical table. He resisted as much as he could with his injured shoulder but it didn't seem to faze the big, burly guards who eventually slammed him down on the bed and strapped him down with the thick, strong cords that hung to the side of the bed.

"I was going to use sedatives, Colonel Sheppard," Jagrin's voice rang out clearly above the sounds of John's struggles and the grunts of the soldiers who were still in the process of securing the straps, "but then I remembered how much I love hearing you scream."

Sheppard couldn't have replied if he wanted to. He was turned away from Jagrin and his head was smashed against the bed because one of the guards was pressing him down on the side of his face – making it near impossible to breathe.

He tried closing his eyes and blocking out everything – the sensation of being tied to an operating table, the sound of Jagrin's scornful remarks, and the pounding of his heart as he awaited the pain, though he knew it would be futile. Whatever torture was planned for him, it wouldn't be able to be ignored by simple mental blockades.

He was engulfed by searing agony, which ripped a scream from his throat. Tears stung his eyes. The horror of what Jagrin started to do to him mercifully caused his mind to shut down.

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_Thank you for reading! Please leave a review! I'd love to know what you think! :)_


	7. Chapter 7 Locus of Control

_AN: Well, I'm back from vacation! My hubby-to-be and I went to see his family for the extended weekend in Chicago. They were nice but the weather there was not my favorite. It was too cold and all I wanted to do was write the entire time!_

_Anyways, you're probably thinking 'who cares about your crappy vacation, Leslie? Let's get on with it!' so here it is._

_Thanks and Credit: to my beta...she also created the ending of this chapter._

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis, their concepts, ideas or characters. Nor do I pretend to.**_

_P.S.: Is anyone else having problems uploading documents? I had to use an old document I've uploaded and use it to publish this chapter. I really hope they get that fixed soon. It's bugging me. I also hope this works and I can publish it._

_P.S.S.: If anyone of you have watched Star Trek: Voyager, you'll notice the concept I stole from the episode "The Chute".  
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**"Ready to give up yet, Johnny boy?"_ _Kolya laughed. "Or can you take more?"_

Sheppard's eyes shot open. After a couple moments, he realized that he was still in the surgical room but he was no longer strapped to the table. A few seconds later, he also discovered a hand feeling around the back of his head.

Quickly, he reached around and grabbed it. He tightened his fingers around it, attempting to crack the bones.

A string of familiar Gaelic curses were let loose, and John immediately released his grip. He twisted his head to see Carson massaging his hand and glaring down at him. "What was that for?" the doctor demanded.

"Sorry, doc," Sheppard replied not-so-genuinely. What was it with everyone sneaking up on him lately? He brought his hands to the top of the surgical bed and began to push himself up. His movements were counteracted by a firm hand gently pushing him back down.

"Oh no, you don't," Beckett scolded. "I gave you some anesthetic but that will only dull the pain. I have to figure out what exactly he did to you."

That's when the memory of the actual operation dawned on John. He had completely forgotten everything past being brought to his room. But now he remembered the excruciating pain he felt on the back of his head moments before he blacked out.

"My head," he pointed to the base of his skull. "I felt something there right before I passed out."

"Aye," Carson muttered softly as he resumed his perusing through Sheppard's disarrayed dark locks of hair. "I was on to something before you decided to break my fingers in a dozen pieces. Could you turn over on your front please?"

John did as he was asked and waited silently as he felt the doctor's fingers move gingerly around his head until finally, they stopped in a place he could barely sense.

"There's something here," Dr. Beckett announced quietly, sifting his fingers deeper through the colonel's hair. "I think it's some sort of – oh bloody hell…"

"What is it?" Sheppard asked, growing more uncomfortable with the hint of panic he could now hear in Beckett's voice.

"It's some sort of metal plate on the back of your skull," Carson informed him with controlled alarm that came with years of experience as a doctor, but nonetheless still detectable by John.

"Well get it the hell off," Sheppard demanded, grinding his teeth in anger. If the actual pain of the procedure wasn't the real torture, then this "metal plate", whatever it was designed to do, would induce the real pain - the real torture. The only question was; what did it do?

"That's just what I'm going to attempt to do, lad" Beckett assured him. "But I'm not one hundred percent sure I can do that. They wouldn't have let me in here to check on you."

Sheppard sighed in frustration and closed his eyes tightly as he felt the doctor's fingers move around the device and finger the edges. After a couple moments, the prying fingers moved away.

"Well, I have bad news and good news," Dr. Beckett said.

"Good news first," John requested with a pained grunt, "I need something positive right now."

"I don't _think_ it's permanently attached to you as I feared and it might be highly possible I can remove it safely," Carson informed, but his tone didn't make the good news sound positive at all.

"Bad news?" he asked after a couple moments of silence.

"Bad news is that I can't remove it without getting you under a scanner and with a team of nurses at my disposal."

"Which we don't have either of," Sheppard rolled his head with a groan, and then asked, "What are the dangers of removing it _now_?"

"Quite a lot, actually," Beckett replied in a sorrowful tone, "I could be tearing out a section of your brain for all I know."

The colonel ground his teeth together in frustration. "I don't care. Cut it out."

Dr. Beckett sighed and John turned his head just in time to see the doctor pick up a rather intimidating 'medical' instrument that looked as if it were used for ripping out a human backbone. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. These tools are so bloody primitive and cruel. I don't think they're constructed for performing delicate surgery either."

Slamming his fist down on the bed with a hard pound, Sheppard shouted. "Damn it, Carson, figure something out because I am _not_ walking out of here with whatever device that bastard put on my head."

When he looked up at Beckett, he was surprised to see ill-disguised shock in the man's face.

"What?" he demanded impatiently. For some reason, the doctor was extra irritating today.

"You've never yelled at me before, Colonel," Dr. Beckett replied solemnly. "At least, not like that you haven't."

Sheppard grimaced. "Well, forgive me for being a little harsh but I'm kind of freaked out here. And this isn't exactly the right moment to be going all sensitive. So buck up and do your job!"

"That's not what I meant," Carson muttered, setting the instrument down as he turned to look at him with a suspicious eye.

"What do you mean?" John asked as he realized he'd been balling his fists. Would he really strike his doctor and friend? For some reason, he really wanted to punch him.

"The anesthetic should have begun to wear off now so let me ask you, Colonel," the doctor cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at him, "does the plate itch? Or irritate in any way?"

Sitting up, Sheppard reached back to touch the cold metal on the back of his head. "It hurts like hell," he reported, "and it itches underneath. Does that answer your question?"

Dr. Beckett nodded. "That could be part of the reason you're a little touchy. But it could also be the main purpose of this device. It's possible that it's somehow disrupting your internal locus of control."

"So, what are you saying?" the Colonel growled in frustration as he moved his fingers across the foreign object again and again where he was beginning to regain feeling. "That they put this on me just to make me pissed twenty-four seven?"

"I'm sure it's much deeper than that," Carson mused, reaching over to remove Sheppard's hand from the device, "but I suggest you don't attempt to remove it or pick at it. They might have anticipated that and put in certain measures to make sure you don't take it out."

John mumbled a string of curses and then spoke more audibly. "I'm beginning to be able to sympathize with Ronon. I can't stand having this thing on me for more than two minutes and who knows how long Chewie's had to stand it."

Beckett smiled encouragingly, appreciating the Colonel's efforts to lighten the conversation, but both feared, deep down, the outcome of this clamp and the harm it was designed for.

xXx

After being unceremoniously dumped back into the jail cell by the ever-helpful Genii guards, Sheppard bit down on his tongue to keep from hitting another wall. He was beginning to wonder if the doctor had been right about the effects of this device. All he could think about was killing Jagrin and he had started to list the ways he knew how to, just to take his mind off the anger he could feel growing inside him.

"What did they do to you?"

The sound of another voice startled John and he whirled around to see that Victoria had not budged from her position leaning up against the wall.

He wasted no time with his explanation. "They – _he_ put something on the back of the head that's making it hard to control my violent impulses."

Sheppard heard her sigh in the darkness and then shift position. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"No, I'm not 'okay'," he snapped. "I've got a metal plate screwed into the back of my head that's turning me into an animal!"

There was a moment's silence before she replied with a flat "I'm sorry" and she said no more.

The colonel was well aware that he shouldn't have unleashed his temper on Thompson, of all people, but there something that made him feel like to ripping the throats out of everyone he spoke to.

He wanted to apologize to her - to explain that he didn't mean to snap at her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it and inevitably decided that it was best to remain silent.

Sheppard moved to the other side of the room and began pacing a short distance. This situation reminded him of one of the worst times of his life – being infected by that damned Iratus bug virus and being transformed, slowly, into a monster. He felt so out of control and so helpless – that was, the times he was aware. But this time, he was completely conscious and was still feeling that terrible vulnerability of not being in control.

Jagrin was not only torturing him physically now, but bringing it up to the psychological level where his defenses were the weakest.

"I've never seen you so upset, Johnny," a dark chuckle rumbled from behind him. He whirled around to see Kolya leaning up against the wall, a sly smile playing on his lips. "You're losing control. Soon you'll be so out of it, you won't even know your own name."

"I swear to god, Kolya..." John growled lowly. He never finished his sentence because in less than five seconds, he had his hands around the man's neck, constricting his fingers around the throat.

Sheppard smiled to himself as he watched the Genii writhe beneath his grasp in pain and he tightened his grip, throttling him.

"Colonel!"

Dropping his hands immediately, John realized that only the small call that had made it through the unyielding throat had stopped him from choking Thompson to death. Mortified, he stepped back to the other side of the room, his eyes wide in horror. Kolya's figure had seemed so real...in his rage, he had nearly killed one of his own.

"Colonel," she spoke again after a several moments pause to catch her breath, "are you alright? Do you need -

"Stay away from me," he demanded, holding his hand out towards her for emphasis. She leaned forward, as if she were going to get up but he shouted. "Stay back!" And she resigned to her position again, her expression perplexed and full of worry. In the dim light, he could begin to see the purple bruises taking place all over her neck where his hands had gripped her. And he buried his face in his hands.

"It's not your fault," he heard her murmur before both of them fell silent.

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_Please leave reviews! Reviews = fuel for Shep-whumper! :)_


	8. Chapter 8 Burning Gaze

_Credit: To my beta (Sterenyk Strey) who made this document half-decent for the public eye. :) And, as per usual, she's responsible for the ending of this chapter. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis. You know that._

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_She shifted uneasily, cramped as she was in her position against the wall. She knew Sheppard wasn't glaring at _her_ – at least, she didn't think he was, but it still disturbed her. She greatly feared another attack from him, but tried to put in prospective that it was definitely more frightening for him than it could ever be for her.

"Colonel, it's me," she cried, trying to break through the hallucinations, "Kolya is dead. He's not here."

He didn't say a word. He stared at her long and hard, and clenched then unclenched his fists but kept his angry stare on her. Victoria figured he hadn't heard her. He mumbled a word, over and over again. Kolya.

From the first time she saw the mortification and pain on his face after the assault, she wanted nothing more than to comfort him and convince him that she did not blame him and that none of this was his fault. But he had insisted she stay away from him and she believed it to be a sound piece of advice.

The drug had been out of her system for a while now and she was able to sit up and move around more freely. Her mind was no longer clouded. She felt the need to get up and stretch her legs but she knew that was out of the equation. She made a mental note to thank the Colonel for dissuading Jagrin from administering that awful drug once they got back to Atlantis – even if he did pay for it by getting that damn piece of metal screwed onto the back of his poor head.

She couldn't understand why Beckett wasn't able to just take the damn thing off. – Unless it was attached to some vital organ like, for instance, his brain. In that case, they would have to wait to get home before he could get any help. However, by her estimate, they'd been there almost an entire day and no help had come. Surely Dr. Weir wasn't so stupid as to not send a rescue team. Maybe they had but had been unable to locate them.

Then it dawned on her.

Once they had been stunned on the planet, the next thing they had seen was the jail cell. Who knew how many stargates the Genii had dragged them through? For all they knew, they were light years away! If that were so, they would never be rescued - at least, not in their lifetime.

For now, she decided to stick with Sheppard's angry gaze. There was nothing else for her to focus on.

xXx

The familiar clang at the door awoke Victoria from her sleep but she decided against turning her head to look. It didn't matter anymore who it was - she had nearly given up all hope of rescue since her latest theory on being on a whole other planet.

"Hello there, love." A gentle, familiar voice permeated her thoughts, and she looked up to see Dr. Carson Beckett standing over her with a half-baked yet dimpled smile on his face. She faintly smiled back. She had been hoping that her commanding officer was somehow wrong about Beckett actually being captured along with them. He was there their only hope for a quick rescue. However, she was somewhat relieved to see him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked quietly, still well aware of Sheppard's eyes still furiously burning through her.

"I insisted on checking up on you two," the doctor informed as he knelt down and opened up the med kit he had carried in. Looking over his shoulder to the two guards who had entered in with him, he added in a hushed whisper. "I regret that I had to bring along some friends."

As he started removing objects from his kit, she halted him by placing her hand over his. "You should really look at the colonel first. I'm fine. He's not."

"Like hell you are," Dr. Beckett frowned and continued withdrawing the items he needed, "Colonel Sheppard told me that Jagrin had you drugged."

"That was awhile ago," she assured. "I'm all right now. In fact, I feel much better. _He _needs your help. Really. I insist."

Carson sighed, and lowered his voice. "To tell you the truth, lass, I'm afraid there's not much else I can do for him except hand him a couple Tylenol every few hours. His only chance for survival is if we can get him back to Atlantis…quickly."

At the mention of his condition, Victoria subconsciously reached up to rub her neck where the bruises were starting to hurt.

"What the hell happened to you?" Beckett demanded.. She quickly removed her hand but it was too late – the doctor was already inspecting the contusions himself. "Did Jagrin or one of the guards do this to you?"

Thompson bit her lip. "No," she whispered.

Dr. Beckett nodded in understanding. "Sheppard. I should probably give him a sedative," he began muttering, "It would be safer to –

"It wasn't his fault," she insisted, "he didn't mean to do it and he hasn't hurt me since. He…he thought I was Kolya."

"Kolya?" Carson repeated, a perplexed expression clouding his face.

Thompson nodded. "He called me Kolya and then started choking me. It may have something to do with the device on his head but it also may be the fact that it's fairly easy to go mad in this place." She looked around their prison with a disgusted look. The stone walls were beginning to look more and more ominous as the hours passed, and the similarly textured floor didn't exactly make for comfortable bedding.

"Aye," Beckett concurred, "perhaps this device is worse than I thought if it's producing hallucinations."

"Is there anything you can do for him?" she asked hopefully.

The doctor shook his head in sorrow. "No. But I can help with the pain…that may put a damper on the delusions."

She nodded to him and he left her, carrying his kit slowly over to the quietly seething colonel.

"Son, it's me, Carson," Dr. Beckett spoke soothingly as he crept closer, "I'm your friend, alright? I'm going to give you something to help with the pain."

Victoria watched as Sheppard didn't move an inch or reply to the comforting words of his friend.

Cautiously, Carson reached out for John's hand. The colonel didn't resist as Beckett quickly pried open the clenched fist and slipped two Tylenol in his hand. The fist tightened almost immediately after it had been released.

Thompson picked up the water canister that Sheppard had left leaning up against the wall and rolled it over to the other side of the room to the doctor. He caught it quickly before it rolled too far and he set it next to the colonel.

It wasn't long after Dr. Beckett had patted John on the shoulder and began to make his way back over to Victoria before another loud clang came from the door and Jagrin stepped through, wearing his usual sly grin.

"Time's up, Doctor," the Genii announced casually. "The guards will escort you back to your room."

"I'm not even close to being done," Beckett argued. "I may not be able to help Colonel Sheppard but I need to stay – just in case."

Jagrin shook his head. "No. Let's go."

The doctor sighed in frustration but headed towards the door looking morose. He quickly disappeared around the corridor with the two Genii soldiers he had brought in earlier.

All that remained now were the two guards standing outside of the cell and the brimming idiot, Jagrin.

"Have you hurt her yet, Sheppard?" he asked in an interested tone, his gaze flickering from the colonel to her. She kept a steady glare at him but John kept his eyes fixed on her and did not answer.

The Genii simply chuckled and sauntered over to her. He squatted down next to her and looked over her silently until he caught sight of the discolorations on her neck and reached out towards them. "Ha!" he shouted in delight, moving his fingers about on her neck to feel every single injury Sheppard had unwillingly inflicted upon her. "So even the great Colonel Sheppard isn't strong enough to resist my clever little device, is he?"

Thompson moved her head away but he had already retracted his fingers. Standing up, he faced Sheppard again. "Do you like it? We just finished it about a week ago. There were no willing volunteers to test it out on so we took the liberty of using you as our subject. And it seems to be in perfect working order. Congratulations."

Sheppard remained in his position and still stayed silent but Victoria was beginning to question how long that would last. Already, she could see his fists clenching together more tightly than she had seen them before and his face was turning a darker crimson.

"Leave him alone," she warned quietly, fixing her gaze on John now, trying to will him to not make a move.

Jagrin ignored her completely. "I suppose we should give you the credit in the development of a torture device that will be used on every single one of our prisoners in the soon coming future. It's only fair."

"Stop!" Thompson shouted fearfully as the colonel's gaze shifted now to Jagrin. He was going to try and kill him soon if she didn't do something.

"Not only will you be responsible for their deaths, but your friends as well. We're going to implant both of them with their own devices. How long will you be able to keep control before you all kill each other?"

In an instant, she had to make a decision. As soon as she saw Sheppard rise to his feet, she knew it was over. She stood up as well and lunged towards Jagrin. Only once she had knocked him to the ground did she question her sanity.

Tussling on the ground, she struggled to gain the upper hand but she knew she had no advantage.

Even though her concentration was fully fixed on killing the bastard, she could still sense the guards behind her, unsure of what to do. She took comfort in the fact that they wouldn't shoot at her while their commanding officer was in such close proximity.

However, it didn't seem to matter anyway. The moment she saw Jagrin struggle to slip a knife out of his belt, she knew it was over. With one last burst of adrenaline, she attempted to reach for the weapon that was now firmly grasped in his hand. In one sweeping motion, she felt the shearing pain overwhelm her and Jagrin shoved her off of him.

Once she was on the ground, she looked up to see the dagger sticking out of her abdomen. As her vision and mind began to blur everything together, she heard an angry shout that consisted of Kolya's name and a string of curse words. Thompson feared, with what little brain power she had left, that her commanding officer had once again lapsed into a hallucination and was going to throttle her again. But before she could find out, her mind gave up and she slipped into darkness.

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_No, she's not dead._

_Please leave reviews! Reviews=fuel for Shep whumper! :)  
_


	9. Chapter 9 Pangs

_AN: Erf...excuse the incredibly idiotic title for this chapter. It was either that or untitled (which, in my opinion, has become very overused). Anyways, sorry for the late upload. I was trying to make this chapter more appealing. It's up to you whether or not I achieved that. More physical Shep whump in the days to come!_

_Thanks: Sterenyk Strey. No more needs to be said. She's incredible and I don't feel like I deserve an amazing writer like her to look over my poor excuse for writing. But thanks all the same! ^_^_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate: Atlantis nor do I pretend to. No copyright infringement intended.  
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**She was still alive – however barely - but he was at a loss about what to do with the dagger that was still wedged firmly in her abdomen. Obviously, it had not made its way to the more vital organs or she would have been dead already. Though he knew that if it was left in there any longer, the inevitable would happen, he also knew just yanking it out the good old-fashioned way wouldn't be the wisest way to go.

He scrubbed his forearm across his forehead in an attempt to wipe away the sweat that was accumulating at the top of his brow. The temperature in their tiny little cell seemed to have been knocked up a few notches because he suddenly went from freezing cold to blistering hot.

The hallucinations hadn't stopped but they had been ignorable ever since he had been able to get his priorities in order, with keeping Thompson alive at number one. The last vivid one he had experienced was Jagrin taking on the likeness of Kolya just as he stabbed her. Sheppard feared he would have killed him if the bastard had not scurried out of there as if someone had lit a fire under his ass. The man was a coward. He may have had more power and more soldiers but if they were to ever go up face to face to fight like real men, he had a feeling Jagrin would be on his knees begging for mercy.

John took a swig from his canister then stared at it as he longed for some sort of alcohol instead. The Tylenol had helped to slightly dull the pain but numbing it the traditional way seemed more inviting. And not just for the physical pain.

"Come on, Thompson," he whispered, watching her from a distance.

As if on cue, a quiet moan erupted from her lips. Quickly, he crawled over. When he reached her, he placed a hand over her forehead and bit his lip as he waited for her to open her eyes. However, as soon as she did, he wished she hadn't. They were glazed over and hazy, not to mention wild and confused. Sheppard felt a pang in his stomach as all the feelings of guilt he had pushed to the back of his mind broke free and clouded his thoughts. If only he had just kept control…

"I thought you weren't supposed to feel pain in the afterlife," she groaned, craning her neck to look around.

"You're still alive, Victoria," he told her, searching her face for some sort of recognizable signs of clear-headedness.

"Lucky me," she whispered and closed her eyes tightly in a visible indication of pain. "I can't move."

"Don't try to," he insisted, scanning her in worry. "I'm going to get Beckett in here soon and you're going to be alright."

Despite his reassurance, she lifted her head up to look across her body. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the knife. "What the hell is that?!"

John winced. "Jagrin stabbed you, remember?"

"No," she replied, irritated, "get it out!"

"I can't do that."

"Why not?!"

He pursed his lips, struggling to retain composure. "Because I don't have enough medical knowledge to know if I'd be ripping out your pancreas or some other essential organ in the process – just wait for Carson."

"I don't need it anyway," she told him with a growl. "If you don't take it out now, I'll lose a lot more than my damned pancreas."

"Not if you don't stay calm and wait patiently."

She said no more after his last statement. He was finding it increasingly difficult to still have control over the plate. Just a couple hours earlier, he had trouble remembering his parents' names, but now he was able to easily restrain the urge to slap the lieutenant up one side and down the other for behaving like an adolescent.

However, he was unsure how strong his control would be if Jagrin were to enter the cell again.

Reluctantly, he stood up from his position on the ground and stumbled over to the bars of their cell. The usual solitary soldier who guarded their prison flicked his gaze to Sheppard, but only for an instant before reverting back to focusing on some imaginary point in front of the guard.

"Get our doctor in here," John demanded in a hushed tone, "and when we break out of here, I promise not to kill you…slowly."

"Commander Jagrin ordered that your medical team member not be allowed back into the cell until he gives his authorization." The guard replied flatly as if he had spent his entire day memorizing that one line.

Sheppard clenched his fists tightly and kicked the metal bars, causing a sharp, shooting pain to explode in his foot.

_Great going, John,_ he thought bitterly, _break something – create another disadvantage for you. Damn you, Kolya. Damn you to someplace worse than hell – since you seem to have so much free time there!_

He cursed aloud afterwards and went to lean up against the wall closest to Thompson. Pulling off his combat boot, he began to gingerly touch his toes. Broken. At least three of them.

"What happened?" she asked, reopening her eyes and fixing them on his foot that he was nursing. He figured she must have drifted off again.

"These damn military boots aren't worth crap," John replied abrasively. "Jagrin won't let Beckett come help you."

To his surprise, she nodded in acknowledgement. "I figured."

Before he had a chance to reply, the door rattled and he looked up to see Jagrin entering into their cell with four guards leading the way.

"You've doubled your sentry," John feigned indifference when in reality; he was struggling to tie down the rising desire to strangle the ass-wipe. "Are you scared of your own Frankenstein?"

"Let's go, John," Jagrin spoke quickly, ignoring Sheppard's sarcastic remarks entirely for once.

"No."

Sheppard used the next few moments of tense silence to ease his injured foot back into his boot, lace up, and return to Thomson's side.

"That was not a request, colonel."

John decided against answering when he felt the familiar swell of anger once again. Pretending to occupy himself with looking over the once again unconscious lieutenant, he remained silent.

"You have two options, Johnny Boy. You can walk out or we can drag you out. Either way you're coming with – "

"Don't _ever _call me that again!" Sheppard seethed, now standing on his own two feet and glaring at Jagrin. His fists clenched tightly together and he could feel the vein on his forehead bulge in anger. Every molecule in his body screamed at him to throttle the man but it was the one pint of control he had left in him that made him stand down.

The furiousness of John's interruption didn't seem to put Jagrin off. He grinned cruelly as he struck up a new conversation. "I'm sorry; does it bother you when I call you that?"

The mock apology was only made things worse as he desperately searched for a way to calm himself. But all he could think about was that damned pet name Kolya had for him. Hearing it uttered from this man's lips seemed to ignite the fire that was already blazing out of control within him.

"I'm not leaving." Sheppard said firmly, changing the subject. "Not until you let Carson in here to help her."

Jagrin snaked his head around John's body to look at the subject he was referring to. "She is the reason you won't leave?"

He swallowed and tilted his chin but said nothing.

The Genii soldier nodded as if in surrender. Sheppard almost – _almost_ – allowed himself a silent sigh of relief.

But then Jagrin took out his gun.

What happened after that was a blur. John could remember shapes and voices, and a momentary surge of adrenaline – and lastly, terrible pain in his already badly wounded arm.

Once he had started regaining coherency, he had realized that he had been shot in the arm – there by which the sharp pain had derived - but it only took a couple staggering moments more to realize that Jagrin hadn't intended to shoot him.

Groggily, he twisted around to see that he was lying across Lieutenant Thompson's legs. That's when it had become so blatantly apparent.

He had aimed for her.

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_Please review! It helps motivate me for the next chapter! _


	10. Chapter 10 Senseless

_AN: Sorry for the VERY long hold up. But I have a good excuse I promise! My wedding is next Friday (I know, my mom thinks I'm a freak for being able to fit in time to write at all) so this will probably be my last upload until sometime in April. Fast Fact for those who care: We're going to Scotland for the honeymoon! I thought it was relevant because I'll be surrounded by Carson-like people! x-)_

_Anyways, I got a little perfectionist on this chapter and it still didn't turn out the way I wanted it to but thanks to my lovely Beta, I'm hoping it's decent for you all to read. Little to no Thompson in this one and kind of lagging, Man, I hate bridge chapters.  
_

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_Pass out, pass out, come on - please pass out! _

John wasn't normally one for blacking out in dire situations such as this where he needed a clear head, but the pain in his shoulder was unbearable.

The bastard had shot him in the exact place he had stabbed him.

Despite his anger towards the situation and the fact that it was far too ironic to be coincidental, the look of surprise on Jagrin's face seemed shockingly genuine to Sheppard. What was he trying to pull now?

John watched, hazy-eyed, as the Genii anxiously placed his gun back in his holster and looked at him with an unreadable expression across his face.

John closed his eyes, trying once more to will himself into an unconscious state. He'd deal with this later if he could. For now, he needed the wondrous feeling of absolute oblivion.

His body refused and Sheppard groaned loudly in his frustration. When he reopened his eyes, he saw Jagrin still standing over him. The look of cruel amusement was no longer there but rather, it was replaced with a puzzled one. Why did it seem as though he were worried for John's life? One thing was for sure and that was that the Genii did not give a damn about his physical well-being.

"Colonel," he finally spoke, squatting down to Sheppard's limp form, "Can you hear me?"

_Loud and clear__, _John thought bitterly but didn't answer aloud.

"Take him to his doctor," Jagrin barked to one of the soldiers. "Have him make sure his injuries aren't lethal. Then send him to me."

If it were humanly possible, Sheppard would have laughed. The bastard hadn't expected him to jump in as a cliché act of heroism, had he? He had very nearly broken his new toy and was now hurrying to an adult to patch it back up so he could play with it again.

John's silent hilarity was cut short however, when he felt the extreme pain of his arms being torn off. After an unintentional scream of agony, the pain subsided slightly and he realized that the morons were actually trying to _drag_ him to the improvised infirmary.

A sharp command from Jagrin and he felt another firm yank resulting in one more ear-splitting scream. He could feel the floor move beneath him as the towed him away from his cell and away from Thompson.

Just as Sheppard thought that his arm had been permanently ripped off his shoulder, he was dropped unceremoniously to the floor. He landed on said shoulder and he let out a pained hiss but decided against screaming again.

"Oh dear Lord," he heard Carson exclaim. A soothing hand was suddenly placed on his head and a not-so-soothing one on his left shoulder.

"Ah!" he cried out in protest then forced his eyes open. He needed to stop being a pussy about this and get what needed to get done, done.

"Sorry, lad," Beckett mumbled sympathetically as he rose from his position next to John and walked over to the other end of the room to fetch something.

Sheppard used the time to get up. It hurt but he knew he had to. Here he was getting treatment for something so minor he would more than likely live through while Thompson was back in the cell, drenched in sweat and a knife lodged into her body. The very thought made the pain doubly worse so he forced it out of his mind temporarily.

Using the wall with his right arm, he hoisted himself up, clutching his injured limb protectively to his side.

"Whoa, whoa, son, where do you think you're going?" Dr. Beckett's frantic voice got louder as he heard him rapidly close the space between them. "You shouldn't be moving."

"Thompson…needs help," he reported slowly, trying to breath past the throbbing in his shoulder.

"_You _need help, Colonel," Carson contradicted as he placed a gentle hand on John's good arm and attempted to lead him away from the wall.

Sheppard shook his head stubbornly and pulled back away from Beckett's grasp. "…stabbed…Jagrin…dying..."

"She was stabbed?" Dr. Beckett repeated in shock. "Where?"

John gestured to his abdominal area and slumped against the wall, feeling nausea begin to set over him.

The doctor bit his lip and looked towards the door. "Listen, John. As much as I would like – _need - _to help Lieutenant Thompson, it's not possible. I only go where Jagrin lets me. But allow me to fix you and maybe we can –

"No!" he shouted. He felt the familiar frustration and anger rise over him and he was reminded of the plate.

Pushing himself off the wall, he stumbled towards the door. His mind was growing foggy and it made it difficult for him to walk.

_Oh, sure, _now _you want to pass out._

Before he could reach out towards the door, it opened itself and a guard stepped in, probably alarmed by all the commotion Sheppard was single-handedly causing.

"Bring my friend in here," John demanded, trying to sound firm, though his head was beginning to swim.

"I don't take orders from _you_." The guard replied coldly, narrowing his already squinted eyes to tiny slits.

"You don't? Well, how about broken bones?"

"John, please," Carson begged from behind him. "It won't do you or Lieutenant Thompson any good if you wind up in the same predicament, all right?".

Sheppard knew Beckett was correct. They were lucky to have at least two – partially – able-bodied team members - but the image of Victoria lying in a pool of her own blood as she continued to die a slow, painful death was racking his brain.

"She needs help." John said aloud, but whether he was directing the statement to the Genii or the doctor, he had no idea. "She's going to die."

"We know," the soldier hissed with a twisted expression of cruelty and amusement playing on his face.

That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

The plate had been hard enough to overcome without anyone provoking him. But with intentional aggravation, it was insufferable. And Sheppard lunged towards him.

He had every intention of strangling the man to death and was even planning which specific bones in his body he would break but was stopped suddenly when he felt a numbing pain envelop him.

Just before his vision blurred and he fell onto his back against the stone floor, he saw the Wraith stunner in the guard's hand. The bastard had cheated.

John heard a low groan escape from his lips as his mind struggled to stay conscious. Those damned stunners were a pain in the ass. He knew well that when he awoke – if he did, that was – he would wake up with one hell of a headache, not to mention accompanying pins and needles.

But the idea of unconsciousness seemed inviting to him, even now. The image of Thompson dying was slowly fading away as he allowed himself one selfish desire – to sleep.

xXx

Sunlight.

God, how he craved sunlight.

Being cooped up in a light-depraved cell for who knows how long started to get to you. One thing he missed terribly was the reflection of the brilliant sun casting off of the ocean that stretched for miles on Lantea.

Sheppard suddenly realized he was being dragged out of his comfortable stupor by someone's voice. Lifting one sleepy eye, he scanned the room for whoever was disturbing him.

It was a tiny room. Perhaps a ten by four area, he couldn't really tell. The construction and design was familiar to the infirmary room that he had last seen, which was a huge indicator that he was still in hell and not back home.

The irritating voice interrupted his thoughts again and he turned the solitary open eye to the source.

He almost moaned aloud as he met a shaggy blonde head with blazing, cruel blue eyes staring straight at him.

The immediate response was to lift his arms over himself in protection of another spiteful blow to the face – or any other vulnerable area for that matter, but he found that his hands were tied behind his back and to the seat he was sitting in - which happened to be a creaking old chair.

Sucking in a breath, John realized that it was the same room he was first dragged into to be beaten senseless and then stabbed.

This could not be good. He tried to move his feet only to find that they too were tied to the chair.

"Déjà vu," he muttered to himself and felt a hard blow to the face in response from his company. It would have been nothing compared to what he experienced in this compound or what he _would _experience but the strike had been directed near the still sensitive area of his recovering jaw, causing him to wince in pain. "Damn you, Kolya." He turned his head to spit out blood that had accumulated in his mouth.

"Now that you're awake," the unpleasant voice was beginning to make sense now that his mind was suddenly alert. "We can begin."

Sheppard turned his head to glower at Jagrin. His shoulder had been torn open again and he could feel the blood pumping out of it. Why hadn't Carson…?

"Carson," he blurted, his eyes searching the room for his friend. To his relief – or so he'd hoped– he wasn't there.

"When we heard that you had caused a little trouble in our medical room, I relieved your doctor of his duties." The Genii informed with a slight twitch of his lips.

"What did you do?" John demanded, the volume of his voice escalating.

"He's fine, Johnny boy," Jagrin's smile grew to a full-spread one that reached his eyes. "He's in his room still - throwing a fit, no doubt."

"Beckett doesn't take kindly to torture," he informed wryly, mentally breathing a sigh of relief. If the doctor really was dead, Jagrin would not be lying about it – he would be bragging.

Jagrin laughed softly and made a gesture to the other two soldiers Sheppard hadn't noticed before.

After the ropes were cut, John was mercilessly thrown from the chair and onto the floor. He managed to catch himself by putting out his hands to stop him from slamming his head against the stone. Unfortunately, a salient soreness shot up from his hands where bruises were starting to form on his palms. More pain. Great.

Before he had time to get to his feet, he felt a hard kick to his back and he fell forward onto the floor – this time, without being able to catch himself. After the painful collaboration of his head and the granite floor, his arms were yanked above his head and his shirt was cut open in the back. He felt the cold air against his skin and shuddered, thinking about all the wounds that were now exposed.

A loud snapping sound echoed behind him and Sheppard's body tensed reflexively. He craned his neck, trying to find the cause of the noise but a forceful hand shoved him back down, causing his head to collide with the floor yet again, delivering another egg on his abused temple.

"He'll have forty lashes," Jagrin informed, his icy tone causing a shiver to run down John's spine that was usually reserved for Kolya's abrasive voice. "Hold him down. If he makes a single sound, I'll add another ten."


	11. Chapter 11 Nothing

**Credit: **_My beta, as usual :)_

**Disclaimer: **_Don't own it, don't claim to_

**Author's Note: **_She's baaack! Thanks for all of the alerts and reviews I got while I was gone! It was a real day brightener! I hope you all enjoy this chapter! And please PLEASE leave a review. There's only one more chapter but I would love LOVE motivation :)_

_ENJOY!_

* * *

At first, Jagrin's words hadn't registered with John's hazy mind. But after feeling both arms being yanked out in opposite directions and held down firmly, he got the message.

His pulse began beating wildly and he started to feel the sweat accumulate all over his body. Sheppard also soon realized that he hadn't taken a single breath since his doom had been announced. The crushing sensation in his lungs reminded him and he finally gasped for air. However, the sound he made resembled more of a pain-filled cry and Jagrin chuckled in delight.

"My apologies, colonel," he laughed. "But it wouldn't be fair to your friend to let _you_ have it so easy and painless, would it? This might even you up a bit."

Before John even had a chance to think, an excruciating wave of agony swept over him as he felt the first blow.

His body convulsed in reaction and he bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming.

Not giving him a moment to recover from the first gust, the whip snapped again, delivering the second agonizing mark on his back. He bore down on his tongue even harder, drawing blood.

Closing his eyes, Sheppard turned his head so that it was facing directly down towards the floor. He considered trying to knock himself out by beating his head against the hard surface. But then again, he didn't know what kind of penalty that would merit nor did he want to give Jagrin the satisfaction.

The third blow was far worse than the other two. It cut across both throbbing areas from the previous ones on his back, creating one massive pain region that made John feel like clawing his eyes out (– that was, if he had access to said claws.

The solid grip on his arms tightened with each blow, causing the circulation to cut off from his wrists to his fingers so that he couldn't even tighten his fists.

After the fifth or sixth blow, he stopped keeping count. It was all just one endless line of pain now, no longer separated by the fleeting pauses between each strike. The background was beginning to fade away. Not long after, the sounds did too – the sounds of the whip and the grunts of the soldiers who struggled to keep Sheppard down while he writhed.

Though he was silent, it was not so quiet inside his mind. Since he could not express the agony aloud, he had resorted to doing it inside. Every single expletive he could think of was vehemently cursed for Jagrin and every living, breathing Genii - but most of all, for Kolya.

The pain was gradually increasing and John decided to turn his thoughts to other things.

Elizabeth. He couldn't wait till he got back – _if_ he got back – to hear her explanation for the delay of that team of marines he had demanded. He hated himself for going along with her plan, even if she hadn't the least idea that Kolya's maniacal minions were hiding out, rubbing their filthy, grimy hands together in eager anticipation to get – "AH!"

"Aagh!"

The last strike had taken him by surprise. He hadn't meant to let out the yelp of pain but there was a bit of liberation in that release.

"Ten more," he heard Jagrin mutter to the guards and John almost groaned aloud.

Quickly, he moved his mind to another subject - something else to occupy his mind besides the side-splitting agony that was tearing up his entire wondered how much Carson would be able to fix after this. No doubt the Scotsman would find a way to guilt it all on the victim. In a way, he didn't blame him. He was always slinking into the infirmary with the stupidest of injuries from doing the stupidest of things. But even after the incessant lectures and mumblings, Beckett always patched Sheppard up good and proper. But then off he would go, only to do the same exact thing.

A quiet hiss emanated from his teeth as the thirtieth or so blew across his back. The torture was getting far worse with each slice. But he managed to keep his mouth shut so far since the last regrettable transgression.

John flipped through the mental files of subjects in his mind as he tried to pick another subject to ponder while the agony was still ripping up his flesh. For some reason, he thought of his mother.

She was always gentle and sweet. In fact, Sheppard couldn't recall a single time she harshly disciplined him – though God knew it should have been regularly. But she usually left good old Dad to do the dirty work. Meanwhile, she occupied her parental time with cooking for him and his brother and mending "boo-boos" that were normally the result of rough play time between the two. He missed her.

_Something else,_ he thought to himself.

But nothing else would come. His mind was determined to focus on the pain, using every available neuron in his brain to turn his attention to the torture.

He winced against the latest blow. _That has to be forty something_.

It was getting close to the end. He hoped it would be over soon so that he would be dumped back in his cell for another couple hours to recuperate, but only until Jagrin thought of another nasty thing to do to him.

"Get up," Jagrin's voice cut through John's thoughts, and jerked him back into reality.

He didn't even realize when the whipping had stopped. The wounds on his back were burning; not giving him the reprieve he had imagined he would feel when the strikes had come to a halt.

"Get up!" Jagrin repeated callously.

With a glower in the Genii's direction, he attempted to push himself up. It hurt like hell but he was motivated by the thoughts of getting the hell away from the hellhole and getting some rest back in his cold, dark little prison - which seemed like a Utopia from where he was standing.

The soldiers eventually grew impatient of Sheppard's pitiful attempts to get to his feet and they hauled him up by his shoulders. He didn't have enough energy to let out the scream that should have erupted when his serious wound was once again yanked at but the pain was alarmingly great. Whatever Carson had mended his shoulder with, it didn't hold together very well.

Once he was back up on his feet, the Genii began pushing him back down the corridors. His head was cloudy again from the pain and he couldn't tell right from left. The guards helped him by shoving him in the direction he was intended to go.

After what seemed like days, they finally stopped and John could barely make out his cell through his foggy vision.

_Home sweet home,_ he thought grimly as he was mercilessly pushed inside.

His first instinct was to fall to the ground and just succumb to the much desired oblivion for as long as he could, but something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

A figure was sprawled across the floor in the close left corner of the prison. Once he crawled towards it and reached out to touch the chilling arm of the form, he remembered.

Thompson. How had he forgotten? He'd been swept away in his own misery and agony that he had completely disregarded the lieutenant.

"Thompson," he croaked. He pushed on her cold arm but there was no response.

Sheppard gulped as he pulled himself closer. With two tremulous fingers he reached out towards her neck and checked her pulse. He felt nothing. There was no pounding beneath his fingers and he felt his own heart stop.

Pushing past all feelings of hurt in himself, Pushing aside his own hurt, he forced himself to his knees. Leaning his head down towards her mouth, he listened for breathing. He prayed to feel just a small blow against his ear, just to let him know that she was still alive. But, again, he felt nothing.

He glanced toward the source of everything – the weapon in her abdomen. Slowly, he pulled the knife out of her body. She did nothing.

With his entire motivation to stay alive shattered, John's own body fell beside her, embracing the much awaited oblivion.

_"You killed her, Johnny boy," Kolya laughed, "You couldn't save her. You can't even save yourself."_


	12. Chapter 12 Failure

_AN: Wow, new chapter...I'm really slow at pumping these out aren't I? Well, you can thank my busy work schedule and the new house arrangements...it's all blehhh and taking up way too much of my time. Here's the next one. And I lied, there will be one more chapter after this one. THEN it's done. :) Please enjoy and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE (x1000) review! I really like the review, no matter the nature._

_Thanks: Thank you, Sterenyk Strey for being an amazing Beta with a truckload of patience and a head full of fantastic advice. :)_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of it's characters. The plot line, Jagrin, and Lieutenant Thompson are the only things I stake a claim on. **

**

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**John Sheppard awoke in a confused daze.

His body was sprawled across the floor in the center of the prison cell and, upon further investigation; he saw that his left shoulder was bleeding profusely through an old and useless bandage. Guarding the shoulder, he pushed himself to sit on his haunches. John couldn't remember anything about what happened before he woke up. He recalled something about a burning pain on his back but nothing else. The last thing he remembered – clearly_ - _was Victoria being stabbed.

Thompson!

Quickly, he rose to his feet and almost immediately fell back down.

Everything had spun around him and his head still swam from the effect. The room was dizzying colorful and Sheppard knew full well that he wasn't in his right mind. It was also well within his knowledge that it probably had everything to do with the metal plate on the back of his head. But getting back to normal would have to wait till after crunch time.

"Lieutenant?" he called, placing his head in his hands as he struggled to shake off the lightheadedness.

There was no answer. Lifting his head, he searched for her. The cell was dark and difficult to see through, especially in the state he was in, but he tried nevertheless. He stood to his feet again, this time more slowly and more cautiously.

When he was finally to his full height, he could make out a small shape in the corner of the prison and he began making his way towards it, still at a careful speed.

The knife was no longer in her body, but rather on the ground next to her, and he sighed with relief. He figured Carson must have come in and removed it. Still, she didn't look very good and he worried that she would not return to full health very easily or very soon. He would have to keep protecting her against Jagrin and his goons until she could fend for herself.

John staggered away quietly, not wanting to wake her and he slumped against the opposite wall. He was still dizzy and he couldn't make the room stop spinning. The nausea set in soon afterwards, sending waves of pain over him and making it nearly impossible to concentrate.

And so, it was not too far-fetched to think that fate had a bone to pick with him when Jagrin stepped through the cell doors, red-faced and bright-eyed.

"Two of my men have been discovered dead at the entrance of the facility," he informed Sheppard. "I'm guessing it was your men trying to rescue you."

A salient surge of hope rushed through John's frail body and he smiled, despite the pain. They had found him. Somehow, they had found him. Those nasty hours – or was it days? - They'd spent in the facility had not been fruitless. They had bought time, and now, help was on the way.

A swift blow to the head from the angry Genii interrupted his happy thoughts and he fell to the ground. Quickly, he glanced over at Thompson, who still lay still in the corner. Hopefully, she hadn't awakened.

"How many of them are there? Where do they come from?" Jagrin demanded.

"Go to hell," Sheppard croaked, pushing himself off the ground slowly. The pain was everywhere now and it was getting harder to stay conscious.

His attempt to get up was halted when he felt a hard shove from a sturdy boot slam down on his back, causing his body to slam into the floor. A low moan emanated from Sheppard's lips but he kept his hands to his sides, ready to push himself back up as soon as the pressure from his back was released.

"I've lost all patience with you, Colonel," the villain hissed. "Tell me what I want to know."

Despite everything, John began to chuckle. He didn't believe it was his own voice until his body began to shake from the tremors. Why he was amused at such a time was beyond him, but he accepted it as a distraction from the misery he had been feeling.

Jagrin growled and kicked Sheppard in the ribs before retreating from his form, mumbling and cursing all the while.

Lifting one eye open to watch the Genii's actions, John's heart began beating wildly as Jagrin neared Thompson.

Through an impossible feat of self-pressure, he pushed himself up and stood to his feet. He swayed slightly as the room began to whirl once more but he forced himself to focus while Jagrin stood over her body.

The Genii lifted a solitary leg toward her figured and pushed her body with his foot.

That action caused all of hell to stir within Sheppard, and he leapt from his position. The room rushed past him as he shoved Jagrin to the floor. Unable to think of any other sensible option, he threw his body on top of Thompson, shielding her from the attacks of the villains. "No!" he shouted, knowing even now that all sanity had left him and he was now acting out of pure instinct and emotion. He no longer knew strategy or planning – only feeling.

What followed were shouts and railings, but John could not separate them into individual words. Things were beginning to get fuzzier and darker nevertheless he knew he needed to hang on to what little sense he had left.

He hurt again – all over his body. But it was new pain, not soreness - like his shoulder, his head and his back. This was fresh. They were hurting him, but that's all Sheppard could tell. Everything else required too much thinking than his mind was capable of.

Time passed slowly. With every new pain, John clung to Victoria tighter, knowing that if he died, he would have to die defending her. He was in charge, he recalled, of her and many other things. If she died, he would fail. If he died, it wouldn't matter.

Closing his eyes, he finally let go and prayed that by some power, Thompson would stay protected.

xXx

"_What a miserable failure you are, Johnny," Kolya laughed. "What will become of the rest of your team? You've abandoned them, John, John, John…."_

"John!" A woman's voice ripped through Sheppard's dreams like a knife and his eyes slowly opened to reveal a familiar face that he could quite place.

She was beautiful; olive skinned with bronze hair. Her eyes were dark and attractive, but they showed an expression of intense worry.

"Teyla," he groaned in surprise but didn't move a muscle. He felt as though he couldn't.

Her face relaxed slightly and she nodded. "Yes, John, it is I. We are all here. But we must leave at once. Can you walk?"

"Thompson," he mumbled, unable to put together a coherent sentence. His eyes flickered to the body beneath him. "Help."

Teyla's face creased as she looked down to where he was motioning. She extended her hand towards Victoria's face and he grunted. "Careful." He spoke harshly. The woman looked at him in surprise but then nodded reassuringly as she continued her hand towards the Lieutenant. John watched as she stroked her cheek, feeling her temperature, and then moved down to her neck. She kept her fingers at a specific spot for a couple of seconds before retracting them slowly.

"John, I'm afraid –

"Teyla, we gotta run," a familiar voice grunted from behind him. "This place is crawling with Genii. We didn't even get half of them on our way in."

Teyla looked up to the owner of the voice, who still remained hidden to Sheppard. "We might have a problem, Ronon. Colonel Sheppard refuses to leave without Lieutenant Thompson."

Ronon growled and shouted. "Doc, get in here."

A quiet shuffling of feet indicated that another person had entered the room. "Oh dear Lord, I almost forgot. Sheppard informed me earlier that Thompson had been stabbed. That was also almost two days ago."

"She is no longer living," Teyla told him. "But I am not sure that John will accept that information while in this condition."

"What's wrong with him?" Ronon asked gruffly.

"It's a long story," the Doctor sighed and placed a gentle hand on Sheppard's back. "Help me get him off her."

Teyla reached over to assist him. When John finally realized what they were doing, he resisted. "No! Leave her alone!" he shouted, clawing at the arms of those who separated him from his priority.

"Colonel," a soft voice soothed, "it's alright. We're not going to hurt her."

John watched helplessly as he was held back while Thompson's head was lifted and the dog tags removed from around her neck. She was dead. He had failed.

* * *

_Don't forget to review, lovely readers! ;)_


	13. Chapter 13 Repressed

_Author's Note: I know! I know! It's been an eternity! But here it is. The conclusion you've been waiting for! I hope you all enjoyed the story and I CERTAINLY enjoyed all of you! I got all wonderful reviews. Nothing nasty whatsoever and I LOVE that! Please don't make the ending of the story a reason not to review. I would REALLY REALLY like to know what you thought of the story over all. :)_

_Thanks: To Sterenyk Strey for sticking with me through the entire thing and always giving helpful tips! As usual, the ending is 99% hers._

_Disclaimer/Credit: _**I do not own Stargate: Atlantis - nothing, nada. But I do own Jagrin, Thompson and the story line. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't but just to be on the safe side, please don't steal those without my permission. Thanks! :)**

**

* * *

**"...been through a lot. I tried to give him a sedative but it doesn't seem to work. He –

"John?"

Sheppard heard the voice call his name but he couldn't see where it came from. All he could see was a blank ceiling. And he could hear beeping - lots of beeping.

"John? Are you awake?"

He tried to reply, but all that came out was a half-hearted groan. Almost immediately, two faces loomed over him – both of which were very familiar. His head was still spinning however and it took him a moment to remember names. The man was easily recognizable however and he smiled slightly. "Carsssoon," he slurred. He remembered hoping to see Carson again, but other than that he couldn't recall very much. He did recollect that he felt very angry and sad before but he didn't know, or want to know, why that was.

"That's it, lad." Carson replied with an encouraging smile. "Are you feeling any better?"

John lifted an eyebrow. "I don't feel anything."

The other face construed slightly in worry and he turned his head towards her as well. His mind began to swim as he searched desperately for a name to match her face.

"Elizzzzzaabethhh," he drawled out, his brow furrowing as he looked at her.

"Yes, John," she nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "It's me. Don't worry, all right? Dr. Beckett is doing the best he can to get you back to your old self again."

A face flashed before his eyes and this time, it didn't even take a second to remember the name. "Jaaagrinn."

"You don't have to worry about him anymore, Colonel," Beckett assured, disappearing from his view, but his voice still audible. "We're not sure where he went, actually, but I think it's safe to say that he's –

"Carson," Elizabeth's voice cut the doctor off. "I think we should probably let him try to rest. Maybe we can go over the mission later, when he's feeling better?"

"You're right. Sorry, John."

Elizabeth rested her hands on his bed and she smiled at him. But the expression didn't reach her eyes and even Sheppard, as deluded as he was, knew that she was worried. "Get some sleep, Colonel."

John shook his head. He couldn't sleep. Not now. Things had to be done. Someone was in trouble – a team member? A friend? Swiveling his head around the room, he looked for someone – who, he wasn't quite sure but he knew someone was in trouble. He had to save them. This was no time to sleep.

"The mission's over," Elizabeth told him, as if reading his mind. "You can go to sleep. Everything's going to be all right. Your team is here, safe and sound."

For some reason, he immediately believed her and he nodded in acceptance. She disappeared from his view and he closed his eyes, trying to force his mind to relax. And, eventually, he found sleep.

xXx

"Visiting hours over yet?"

John looked up from his Sudoku book to see a jumpy Rodney McKay lingering at the door and wringing his hands. "Come in, Rodney." He suppressed a growl. To tell the truth, he was sick of visitors. All they would do was tell him how worried they were about him and how proud he's made everyone. Then whenever he would ask about the mission, they would turn tail and flee.

McKay entered and walked slowly towards Sheppard's bed – as if becoming indecisive of whether or not to go through with it.

Growing impatient with the scientist's hesitant entrance, he returned his focus towards his puzzle book and grabbed another saltine cracker from his tray. "If you're also here to tell me what a good boy I've been, then get the hell out."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sheppard saw Rodney halt and he cringed inwardly at the harshness he heard in his own words, but did not apologize.

"Well," McKay laughed nervously, "I'm not usually one to praise anyone but myself, so..."

John looked up from his book and glared at him. Trying to lighten the situation with humor was usually his task but Rodney sucked at it and he could tell he was merely trying not to flip the switch on the soldier's easily flared temper.

"Right, um..." The scientist kept his outrageous distance of about ten feet as he clicked his tongue, searching for a subject. "So I heard you yelled at Weir?"

He sighed and looked back at his book. "That's not really big news around here, McKay. Besides, everyone keeps treating me like a ticking time bomb, _especially_ Elizabeth. I might as well throw them a bone."

"Well, how do you want us to treat you? I mean, if one person even begins to try and be nice to you, you just snap at them! How do you expect people to react?"

Sheppard raised his brow.

"All right, even if that does describe _me_ in a paragraph, that doesn't describe you." Rodney finally risked it and closed the space between them, standing in front of John with his hands stuffed in his pockets. "I mean, you're always the "rough and tough"," go get 'em" kinda guy, with that annoying optimism you seem insistent on carrying even when you're staring death right down the barrel."

"It's kind of hard to be optimistic when you don't even know what you're being optimistic about."

"What do you mean?"

Tossing the book aside, Sheppard looked at Rodney. "I mean the secrecy, the tip-toeing around the entire subject. I don't even remember what happened. All I know is that Carson was there and it had something to do with the Genii –

Rodney snorted. "It actually had a _lot_ to do with the Genii..."

"McKay!"

"Sorry," the scientist winced. "It's just – Heightmeyer said that you wouldn't be able to handle it right now. She says that most of it has to do with a repressed memory or something."

"It happened _yesterday_!" John nearly shouted. "How can I repress something that recent?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "It might have been too painful for you and your mind just –

"_What_ was too painful for me, Rodney?" he demanded. "I can't remember a damn thing and you all expect me to just shape up and get back to normal without even telling me what went down out there. I feel like a part of my life has just been erased and that scares the crap out of me."

McKay stared at him for awhile but finally nodded. "All right, fine. Dr. Weir, Carson _and_ Kate are going to kill me for this but..."

Sheppard watched as his friend pulled the chair sitting next to the bed closer and sat down. "Now, there was a bit of speculation that you might remember everything once you were reminded of a small detail. So just...let me know when you've heard enough."

John said nothing but waited anxiously as the pain in his gut began to make itself more known. Something told him that his brain had good reason to block out everything but his curiosity was stronger than his gut-feeling at this point and he shoved aside all hesitancy.

Rodney rested his elbow on his knee and began biting his nail. "I guess I should start at the very end. That might make it a little easier for you."

"Just –

"Tell it. I know, I know. Give me a minute, alright? I don't want you to go into cardiac arrest or anything because -

"McKay!"

"You were in an underground Genii facility, okay? You were there for nearly a week."

"What took the rescue team so long?" Sheppard asked, narrowing his eyes.

"We didn't know which planet!" The scientist cried in self defense. "The last planet you were seen on was searched completely but it soon became obvious that whoever took you, Carson and...I mean, took you and Carson–

"And whom?"

"And...your M-16?"

"Rodney..."

"Look, I'm getting there, alright? I don't want to throw it at you all at once."

"Fine."

"Anyway, whoever took you and Carson definitely took you back through the Stargate because there wasn't a trace of you left on the planet...at all. So I, being the genius that I am, scanned the crystals in the DHD until I found the last fifty planets that had been dialed on that planet. We visited every single one and went through some....pretty strange experiences until we finally found a planet largely populated by Genii. Now, knowing that the Genii aren't often the most trustworthy alien race we've met, our ears went up and we began to search."

"You're boring me, McKay."

"Will you just – Okay, fine. I'll skip ahead. We found the underground facility and used our giant wall of meat – A.K.A. Ronon – to get through their relatively flimsy security defense. We found Carson first, who told us about that...thing you had on the back of your head and led us straight to the cell that was keeping you and...and Lieutenant Thompson."

"Lieutenant Thompson?" John repeated and furrowed his brow.

"Ring a bell?" Rodney asked, wincing slightly and looking away.

Sheppard only nodded. "She was the marine I took with Carson on this...ridiculous mission Elizabeth sent us on..."

"I think that's what she called it too after the third or so day."

"The Genii. They captured us – just me and Thompson at first. When we woke up, we were in a dark cell and...Jagrin..."

"Oh, yeah, Carson told us all about your new friend. Apparently he had a thing for Kolya?"

John ignored him and went on. "He shot me, stabbed me, whipped me –

"Whipped you?"

"And..." Sheppard drew in a sharp breath as the memories forced their way back into his mind. "He killed Thompson."

For once, McKay was silent.

He shut his eyes tightly. "Carson...did she...?"

"No, John," the scientist said quietly. "I'm sorry. She didn't make it."

Sheppard tightened his fists together and felt his face grow red with anger. "Rodney, could you give me a minute?"

McKay left the room faster than physically possible when he saw his friend's face.

Once John had ascertained that his friend was gone, he let go. He threw himself out of his bed and began to pace the infirmary, a sudden burst of energy fueling his anger. He remembered everything now; watching the bastard stab her, seeing her pain-filled face as he tried pointlessly to nurse her back to health, and feeling her cold, dead skin as he checked for a pulse that wasn't there.

And now, he couldn't even do anything about it. Somewhere, Jagrin was still roaming free, worshipping – or whatever the heck you'd call that – Kolya and doing whatever unfinished tasks the dead man had left behind.

Feeling his fury slowly begin to take control, he kicked over one of the oxygen tanks, threw his tray across the room and knocked over a nearby Atlantean-design scanner.

The doors to the infirmary suddenly slid open and in stepped three of his greatest enemies for the last 24 hours – Beckett, Weir and Heightmeyer.

"Colonel, you'll need to lie back down," Beckett told him. Behind the doctor, Sheppard saw a timid McKay watching the scene from outside of the infirmary.

"Rodney!" he shouted in anger.

"Look, John, I'm sorry," the man's voice began to sound genuinely worried. "I didn't know what to do, I –

"Colonel, get back on the bed or I'm going to have to sedate you," Carson said firmly and pushed on Sheppard's shoulders gently.

The response was a quick blow to Dr. Beckett's face. Once he saw the doctor lying on the floor, he became frightened. The two women looked at him, appalled. Nurses came rushing in from nowhere and began to push him back.

"You happy now, Rodney?!" Sheppard yelled towards the scientist. He could no longer see the little squealer, but he knew he was there.

At least four nurses now had him pinned to the bed while a rather sore Carson injected him with some sort of sedative.

John bucked against the nurses' grasp but he already knew it was too late. His head was beginning to spin and his muscles were relaxing against his will.

"Stop doing this to yourself." A voice whispered.

Surprised that anyone would be brave enough to say such a thing, he looked around for the source of the voice. To his right, he saw Thompson standing over him with a tear-stained face.

His bucking slowly ceased as he began to lose consciousness. But he still stared at the apparition.

"You're pathetic, Johnny boy." Another voice said.

Turning his head, he saw a new figure appear from behind Thompson.

"Kolya!" he spat.

"What's happening?" he heard Weir ask.

"He's hallucinating," Carson replied, "I'm going to try and give him another dose."

"You could never save her, and now you're a failure. How many soldiers have you abandoned across this galaxy already, Colonel? You're a failure as a soldier and as a friend."

"You're not a failure." The Thompson vision insisted. "You tried to save me. I know you did. It's okay, Colonel, you can let go."

"Can't..." John murmured.

"It's alright, John. It's almost over." A voice said soothingly. Whether it was Carson or Elizabeth, he didn't know, nor did he care.

"You can," Victoria insisted. "You have to. Your team needs you. Everyone needs you."

Behind Thompson, Sheppard could see Kolya beginning to fade away. Not long after, so did she.

"Don't go," he mumbled, slowly losing his grip on reality.

"We're not going anywhere, John." Weir assured. "We're right here."

Even in his damaged state, Sheppard could see that he needed to move on. He had to. Weir needed him, Carson needed him – everyone needed him. He had to shake this off.

"I'll let go," he agreed, though the Thompson apparition had completely faded away.

"That's it, lad," Carson patted him on the shoulder. "Get some rest. You'll feel better afterwards."

Looking to the ceiling, John caught one last glimpse of Thompson's contented face before he closed his eyes and succumbed to oblivion.

* * *

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